Meals I Have Eaten: 2024

It really seems like there should be a way to upload one million photographs and have them be uploaded in the chronological order in which they were taken. But no. It is now 2026. I lasted posted in 2024 about 2023. My phone keeps telling my my icloud/photos are dangerously close to being full, and that is probably because I never thoroughly delete photos. I'm not sure I'll be turning a new leaf, but here are some photos.

In April I got fourth tattoo.

In the spring, as the grass began once again growing, I opened strategic gates to let my neighbor's horses work as free mowers for me. It was quite magical and spectacular to sit on the shed porch and see them graing and spending time under the snake barn's lean-to and the crab apple tree. Some time in the fall they were sold and moved to South Carolina. Coming on the tail of Birdie's death, it was perhaps even more poignant and sad for me. I never had any responsibility for them. I never worried about their feed or feet or anything else. But I did very much enjoy hanging out with them in the woods and picking ticks out of their manes and giving them scratches. I look back on how much I initially feared Boss horse, and how much he seemed to be okay with that dynamic. But I truly feel that over time he seemed to actually like me a little bit, and my fear was just the normal awareness one should have around horses in general.

A windy day. Pretty good wind, but not nearly as windy as Ellensburg, Washington.

Soft shell crabs, fried with I think like a pea mint sauce I made up.

I need to do more of this. Otter is still unreliable so I can't bring the dogs out to the pasture and relax like I used to with Hippo and Birdie. Also, at the moment the pasture isn't being mown or grazed. Which is a problem.

This hen was a gift from the widow of the neighbor whose horses were on my property. She was special because she had black skin but white feathers. Unfortunately, she was killed this month. It's a bummer.

I still have enough chickens that during laying season, I am fairly overwhelmed with eggs. I give them away to some neighbors and sell them to others and still have plenty to spare. This was a particularly good egg salad. I believe herbs were involved.

Simple poached. Simple English.

Mr. Mustachio. A tick magnet if ever there were one.

Tuna posing for her 1970s album cover.

Pork chop with something resembling a rosemary mushroom gravy with mashed potatoes and sweet peas. The gravy wasn;t thick enough, but it was very good.

Winter.

I think this may have been the day I learned the neighbor died. It was winter and it was snowing and I walked out to see the horses and give them the news in a sense. My neighbor was in his 70s and died of leukemia in roughly six months. This echoed my mother's death timeline in a way that made it difficult not to see it coming. While there were certainly topics that we'd have gotten into arguments about if pressed, we stuck to our shared love of the valley in which we lived, animals and many other topics. He also had a sense of humor.

I painted the most during Covid for sure, but I keep plugging along if perhaps on a much slower and less focused pace.

Black snakes are always a nice sign of warmer weather. I still don't want to pick them up and hold them. Well, I do want to do that but my body has a visceral reaction that disagrees with the part of me that wants to handle them. And in this instance, my body is boss.

Bless the peonies.

Within six months of the horses leaving, Lil Petey, who was the most shy and skittish of the three and blind in one eye, had died. Within a year, Buck was dead too. I truly believe that if they had stayed here, they'd still be alive. And I do have regrets that I wasn't in a financially guaranteed position to buy and take care of them. This year I've seen a definite downturn in my income, and the costs of hay and farriers and vet bills would have been difficult for me. Even so, I miss those horses, or having any horses on my property. And do feel a modicum of responsibility for their fates. I'm not sure if Mr. Mustachio is still in the land of the living and haven't sought out an answer for fear of more bad news.

I do very much love me some peonies. I put another three down along this side porch. It'll be three years before they're likely to flower, but hopefully I'll see the beginning greenery next spring.

Orca the tortie is the sweetest of the cats. They're all sweet in their ways, but she's the most clingy and affectionate, as well as vocal. Tuna is a bit of a diva, most often meowing in displeasure at me for...not feeding her fast enough or brushing the mats out of her coat in the summer. Beluga is a big boy lover, but he, too, isn't quite as clingy or expressive as Orca.

Dead now.

In 2024 I once again dug my dahlias out of the ground and wintered them in wood chip filled rubbermaid containers. In 2025, I took bad advice and tried overwintering them by laying their dead stalks down and then a shit ton of straw, then tarping with black plastic to insulate/keep them from freezing. I lost a good number from both patches - at least six in one and another four or more in the other. So I'll be going back to digging up this year, and will try for the first time to really separate them into more tubers to get my numbers back up.

Northern Lights only visible via iPhone photos. This happened a couple of times in the last two years, and at least once you really could see a red tinge to the sky with the naked eye.

I sometimes think about changing my online dating profile so it includes this photo with a caption like "All I want is to find someone to sit on this porch with me on perhaps a bi-weekly basis." Perhaps not the whole list of requirements I have in terms of dating, but it would be nice.

In May I went north for my high school reunion. On the way back, I stopped by my childhood town and visited with a number of different people from that era of my life. The T.'s were definitely among those visits.

This is post-reunion. I grabbed a coffee with J. who is an old friend I made while in college but not because she was in college with me. We both worked at a coffee house together, and then later lived in Philly at the same time. A brief but good catch up.

Reunion reception with Mr. Ass and C.

And my childhood friend and her husband, who I was meeting for the first time. There's something about my childhood friend that makes me really want to make her laugh, and I'm pretty good at it.

The high school equestrian barn. I spent a fair amount of time down here.

We played foosball as we used to. From our expressions, it's hard to tell who actually won or lost. But fun was had.

Reunions are funny.

Before the reunion, New York. I stayed with L. and Fatty. This photo was taken after we had a great seafood-centric meal at Dame then went to a Tesla-themed cocktail bar.

This was at Dame. They had a softshell crab special that of course I insisted on having.

This was the tuna toast. Technically we didn't order it and said as much, but since it was already on the counter, we were permitted to keep and eat it. And boy was it good.

Oysters with a hollandaise concoction. I forget exactly of what, but nice. I think the order in which I like oysters is as follows: raw, fried, smoked, baked.

On another day I met up with another old high school friend for a VERY fancy lunch at Le Bernadin. Everything about it was very fancy, but I was surprised by a couple of things. I'd misunderstood their prix fixe menu situation, and assumed each diner got to choose one thing from each category. But it was more confusing and convoluted - we had to mostly choose together and share, which was a little more nervewracking that I had expected. On their website, a cheese course was also an option for dessert but when I brought it up they said they hadn't yet brought the cheeses out to warm up. They did make a plate for me, but I think this was probably a faux pas on my part to insist.

Before the lunch I met up with V., yet another high school friend. She didn't plan on going to the reunion, so getting to hang with her around Rockefeller Center for a while was nice. I feel like the last time I saw her could have been many, many years ago when we were both bridesmaids in the same wedding.

And yet more high school shenanigans in NYC. AS and I had dinner at Karasu and then met up with JB for drinks. Since these photos are all backwards, this is the end of our evening. The Knicks won a playoff game to go to the next round, so all the people we were outside with were in very good moods. I like being in a city when people are happy about their sports teams.

We went to Karasu, which is going for a 'speakeasy' vibe in the back of a totally different recipe. This was a whole fried fish.

And this was a little sake flight.

Salmon and roe. Very big and fresh slabs of the salmon.

The karage.

And before or after NYC (I can't remember) I went to the Hudson Valley to see some folks and visit old stomping grounds. At one point I stayed with LD and her husband, the baker. She started out as my photo history professor and over the years has become a dear friend. We don't really see each other often or stay in touch in any way, and yet whenever I go up there, I know they'll be happy to see me.

In perhaps the strangest turn of events, while I was in the HV I was posting instagram stories of my various wanderings to old haunts. At one point, a fellow member of my graduating class reached out. He is a painter, but as far as I can remember we had almost no contact or interactions while we went to college together. I remember him more as a background character on campus than a person I knew. In any case, at some point after moving to Virginia, I saw a painting of his I liked. So I bought it. And in so doing, discovered he had grown up not far away in the North Carolina county adjacent to mine. Anyways. He saw I was in the area and invited me to visit the property on which he and his wife lived. I'd heard about it during my college years - some kind of estate that a bunch of artsy/hippie type folks lived on - but had never fully understood what it actually was. So he invited me to come see the place. I don't know what I expected, but it was not a proper old mansion chock full of history. It was rough around the edges - as if the current generation of the family can't quite afford to make any improvements that those with deeper pockets might - but still quite impressive. I was so caught off guard by the whole thing. I'm not sure if he invited me because he thought I could be more of a patron of his art or what, but either way it was an interesting hour or two.

This was a painting that an ancestor of his wife made, which was in an important NYC Armory show a million years ago.

At one point he pointed to an old phonograph and records and casually said that this was a gift to the family directly from Thomas Edison.

Had to stop for fried pickles and something else.

I think it went Philly -> Hudson Valley -> NYC -> high school reunion. So this is me dressed up for a night in Philly. I stayed in a boutique hotel that was pretty cute, though parking was a nightmare.

And now I don't know where we are in time, except it has to be before late August, because that is when Birdie died. This is Birdie and Tuna, equally intent on a mouse or bug they'd like to kill.

Well now we're at New Year's Day. I went down to Asheville to spend the holiday with C. and J. and K. and J. New Years Day we did as one does and had hoppin john, corn bread, greens and pork.

And this is New Year's Eve. Champagne was enjoyed.

As were lobsters.

Shock of all shocks, C.'s son and I put together a little cheese and charcuterie plate.

A few days before traveling to Asheville, I met a woman in a parking lot in Sparta, NC to meet three puppies who had caught my eye via the Wilkes County Humane Society's Facebook page. All three were sweet, but I was drawn to this one. Because I was busy with work and had the Asheville trip already planned, I asked the foster if she would be willing to keep her for another ten days roughly, which she was. So this was my first meeting/choosing of Otter.

Christmas meal - Roasted Cornish Game Hen and oyster soup the way my mother always made it (ie: Joy of Cooking's way of making it).

And before Christmas my cousin and her daughter came for a visit and I made a rack of lamb, roasted potatoes and slightly spicy greens and mushrooms.

Chickens are never mad when given cantaloupe.

And around Thanksgiving I went up to Ohio. I took the kid to the theater for what I thought was going to be more of a real Cirque du Soleil performance and was decidedly....not quite that. She liked it though, so no complaints.

This grey Ameracauna has been quite reliable in terms of going broody each year. This is her with the chicks that survived a number of things. Not quite chicks anymore. The white one was later killed by a hawk.

Hippo has concerns.

Sushi probably in Christiansburg/Blacksburg.

A new painting above the gas fireplace. My friend A. and his wife curate a huge show every other year in an old barn and old chapel on his family's property. This piece really spoke to me and felt like a good fit for the vibe I already had going on the mantle. My father asked me what I wanted for a birthday/Christmas gift, and this was it.

Even holding this little snake wasn't comfortable to me.

Steak and guac and rice and beans.

I was invited to a Halloween get together for ladies only, some of whom took the holiday theme quite seriously when it came to potluck snacks.

I forget what I said I was dressed up as. Maybe another auntie from Practical Magic?

After Birdie died Hippo was both distant and clingy, depending on who knows what factors.

More Northern Lights.

My friend LW, while I was in Philly, gifted me with an oversized magazine exclusively full of images of Pedro Pascal, who was, at the time, my latest celebrity crush. I didn't really know what to do with an oversized magazine full of images of a man I will never meet, and it sat in my car for months. Eventually I decided on trying to make a collage exclusively from the magazine.

And began creating a Pedro Merman.

I made a lot of progress then got bored, so now it's unfinished and under my bed.

The white chicken my neighbor's widow gifted me. Sadly, I was just away for ten days and while I was gone a weasel dug under and into her coop and killed her.

The views. The views. The views.

Another painting attempt.

When the chicks were smaller. This was very much at the same time as Birdie's death, which was very sudden and traumatic for me. She must have been having seizures for some time before I noticed, but on one Friday she walked into the brush and wouldn't come when I called for over an hour, which was not like her. When I bushwacked into the brush to find her, she was lying in some cool dirt but seemingly fine. Later that evening she had a series of seizures and I "rushed" her to the Winston Salem emergency vet but then was rerouted to the Greensboro vet, arriving some time after 11:30 or so. It was terrible. They said they had stabilized her but would keep her overnight, but that the damage done might be permanent and that she'd need seizure medication twice daily for the rest of her life. It was very mixed message-y to me whether she really was going to be okay. I remember putting gas in my car at a gas station at around 2 in the morning, crying and wishing I had someone I wouldn't feel bad waking up. And I do have such people, but I did not wake them up. Meanwhile chicks hatched the next day.

Monarchs on the hydrangea.

More images in reverse order. I brought Birdie to the hospital late on a Friday night and then ended up picking her up Sunday afternoon. She could not walk on her own really, and if I kind of propped her up, she could only take steps in a circular direction. The vet was unclear about whether this would get better - but I think in retrospect they knew it wouldn't. It felt sort of similar to when we took my mother home from the hospital the last time...we should have had hospice care in place, but the doctors were kind of like 'well maybe you'll rally' but really they must have known that she would not, So I got her home and spent a very sad afternoon and night giving her her seizure meds and taking her outside. After perhaps her 2 AM meds, I fell asleep on the sofa near her dog bed. When I woke up the next day, she was dead. I dug a hole and cut all the dahlias that were blooming. Later I planted tulips and other things where she was buried.

It was very sad.

This is earlier when I brought her outside. She's alive here, just wiped out.

I think the cats and Hippo definitely knew something wasn't right.

This is before the Birdie stuff, which is why I don't look sad.

Took a bunch of ladies into the middle of the river to have a few drinks and gab.

This has become a favorite summer activity for me. Either with others, or by myself and a book, it's always a nice way to spend a couple of summer hours.

This was also when the horses were closer to the house.

Lost another Guinea to predators. I'm not sure what kind. I know it's graphic, but it's also fascinating....and look, you can see an egg.

Summer corn, tomato and basil creamy bucatini.

Grilled chicken (marinated in a mayo based marinade), beans and elote styled corn.

Another river sit afternoon.

And this is a photo from my Whidbey days when Birdie was but a baby I could hold in one hand. Also the fittest/skinniest I probably have ever been.

I also got very into an instagram food trend of doing upside down puff pastry meals. This featured poblano peppers, tomatoes and manchego cheese. And maybe sausage too.

Before the seizures. She was getting grey around the muzzle, but she was also only eight years old. I really expected she'd be like most terriers I've known and live to be at least 12. I wish I had noticed the signs of seizures earlier. I wish that I didn't live so far away from an emergency vet. I think possibly if either were true, the seizures could have been managed before so much damage was done.

Yet another river sit with A.

And this was July. The same NYE crew came and visited, which filled my heart.

We hung out, went on walks, ate and drank and generally enjoyed a couple of days together. I feel so lucky to have friends who are willing to come to the middle of nowhere to hang with me, and sleep in tents because my house is so small.

We went kayaking.

K. is the cocktail master. Or mistress?

Milkweed thrives in my pasture. Folks tell me I shouldn't be happy about this, as it's not good if you just want to turn a pasture into hay, but since that is not my primary desire, I'm glad I'm passively helping out a bunch of bugs.

I forget what kind of flower this is, but it's a bouquet given to my father and his lady friend.

Got hooked up with a friend whose house is not far from a private lake. She allowed me to park by her house, walk through her woods, and use her paddle boards to access the lake after first showing me the way.