GratedLemonRind

Tonight's dinner was without culinary interest, but yesterday I made semi-Indian lentils, because Opal liked the lentils best of Sunday's dinner, and when I said I could make some, she was totally enthusiastic. So I made some lentils, and she squealed in glee and hugged me. I was planning to gussy up the lentils, but in mid-afternoon she asked for a snack, and specifically wanted the plain lentils. It takes a hard-hearted soul to turn down a child who's trying to wheedle lentils out of you as a treat.

For dinner I sauteed an onion in butter and olive oil, added cinnamon, cloves, and chili powder, and a can of diced tomatoes, and cooked it until the tomatoes squished, and threw in the lentils. It was delicious, the house smelled yummy, and I felt deeply soothed by the whole undertaking. I offered Opal a taste. She tasted it solemnly, thought for a moment, and said "Remember last night? You can scrape the outside of a lemon in it." "But I like it this way!" "It makes it better, you know. Think about it." She trotted off. I regarded her, open mouthed, even though I was there for the conversation she based this advice on. Then I fetched a lemon and grated the rind into the lentils, and you know what? It absolutely did make them better. We ate them over rice and enjoyed ourselves greatly. The advice was mostly coincidental (the previous night's lentils were very different), so the truly amazing thing is not the fact that she offered appropriate cooking advice, but that she managed to do so politely.

Read to and by Opal: I read a chapter and a half of Searching for Dragons (The disembodied voices finished their second pass of Ramona the Brave and started in on pass 2 of Ramona, Age 8 and even now are reading Dealing With Dragons for the umpteenth time.) Opal read The Alphabet Room, Fossils Tell of Long Ago, Mother Mother I Feel Sick, and The Pencil.

The Running Book Count: 435 + 202 (last year 1170 + 121)