Good things

The state handed down a 5% pay cut. I laughed helplessly. 

When things go absurdly off track, it is time to consult with Julia Child. Poor eating is good eating, my mother has always told me. You have to do the work to make the magic, she says also. 

And you don't need a thing but a pantry and an old cookbook.

Apple turnovers for a small kitchen

1/2 cup sour cream

1/4 cup sugar

2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 sticks cold butter, cut into bits

2 apples, peeled and diced

1/4 cup sugar

2 tsp flour

a couple shakes of cinnamon

1 tbsp of butter

1 egg beat with 1tsp water, for egg wash

Mix up the sour cream and sugar in a small bowl and set it aside for a bit. Throw the flour and salt together, and work in the butter with your fingers. 

Leave pea-sized lumps and crumbled bits. They make the pastry light.

Get a fork and mix in the sweet sour cream. Use your hands to gather it together with the flour on the bottom of the bowl, and gently press it into a soft rectangle. Wrap it in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge for an hour.

When it's good and chilled, roll it out between layers of plastic wrap until it's about the size of your cutting board, and then fold it in thirds like an envelope. Put it back in the fridge for a few more hours, or leave it overnight to assemble for breakfast.

Mix diced apples with flour, sugar, and cinnamon.

Preheat oven to 375. My kitchen is warm, and my toaster oven is small, so I cut the dough in half to do quick batches. Roll the dough out on a floured board to about 1/8" - very thin. Turn a small cereal bowl upside down and cut out circles of dough. Place a few spoonfuls of apple mixture in the middle of the circle, dab with butter, and fold over the pastry like a giant wonton, press the edges with a fork. Brush with egg wash, sprinkle the tops with some sugar, and put them on your baking sheet. Bake 20 minutes. Try not to eat them while blisteringly hot.

magic

kittens from the sky

While the pastry was chilling, I brushed the flour off my pants and bullied the family into visiting the farmer's market at lunchtime. I had visions of ripe tomatoes and fresh basil for a creamy dinner soup.

As we paid up for the produce and sandwiches, a stray kitten started crying from the bushes and tried to fall into a construction pit beside the busy road. We climbed over the safety barriers and lured it over with bits of grilled ahi, which it scarfed down along with the tips of the man's fingers.

While the family ran off to play with friends up the mountain, I stayed behind to caramelize tomatoes and cuddle the kitten in front of Doctor Who while knitting a little hat for some hapless relative at Christmas. (The Snowboarder Hat that Rocks, for you ravelry hoars.)

here modeled by child who has learned to ignore me when I jam knitwear onto him

Pastries and soup and kittens and knitting.