Looking out my Backdoor: Thing One and Thing Two and Thing Three

I have perfected English muffins.

What that means is that I got hungry for English muffins, not available on the shelves of any tienda in town. I made my first batch, which exceeded my expectations. Unfortunately for me, I made the breadly goodness on a social day and within a couple hours had none left. I called that batch “Thing One.”

I’d eaten one hot off the griddle with butter and jam but wanted a breakfast sandwich muffin on the order of the classic from the Golden Arches. I would call mine a “Thing Muffin.” I had the egg, the cheese, the ham, but no bread.

What I did have was high praise. Every one of us, me included, had seemed to think that English muffins are made by some elaborate process. Nah, they are easy. Let’s keep that our little secret.

Nothing for it but the next day, I had to make another batch. In secret. Which I called “Thing Two.” Before anybody had a chance to smell the bakery scent wafting through the air from my kitchen, I made myself a “Thing Muffin” breakfast sandwich, even better than my best memories.

I will never be able to buy another packet of English muffins, should they become available on a shelf near me.

As long as I’m bragging, I’ll put in a plug for Thing Three.

Here on the Rancho, we’ve had a lot of traffic from elsewhere, people arriving fresh off an airplane or from the beach or foreign lands. New arrivals, as well as those with whom they associate, have one and all been downed by a caustic cough. None more so than my friend, Carol.

After weeks knowing Carol was still coughing and not getting any better, I visited John on their patio and left with this advice, “She needs to see a doctor. Leo will arrange for a doctor from the Hospital Paris to make a house call.”

“But she doesn’t have a fever,” John rationalized.

“I had pneumonia and didn’t have a fever,” my rebuttal.

I returned home and sent over a batch of my homemade tomato soup. I’ve talked about my tomato soup previously. It’s only gotten better. Each batch is full of goodness from my bucket garden, starting with the tomatoes. I am generous with garlic, onions, peppers, handfuls of herbs. This batch had carrots too, simply because I had carrots.

The following day, Carol ate a bowl of my tomato soup. She also accepted a visit from a doctor from the hospital, a shot in the posterior, treatments and medicines. Carol insisted that what made her immediately feel better and jump onto the road to recovery was my homemade tomato soup, which she knew was made with love. There you have it, a testimonial to “Thing Three,” the Best Thing.

“Thing Four” carries no bragging rights.

A friend gave me a linen tablecloth she didn’t use. Nor will I use it, not as a tablecloth. It is insipid pink and just doesn’t work for me. I tried to pass it on to another friend. “Insipid pink,” she said, “won’t work.”

I cut it up into handkerchiefs, for which the color is perfect.

While ironing the hems into the squares of fabric, I realized that my new handkerchiefs wanted to be hand-stitched with contrasting thread. That will be easily done, I thought. Any color will contrast against this putrid, insipid, Barbie pink.

When I was a child, my grandma taught me to sew, starting with simple embroidery and hemming handkerchiefs. My hand-stitches have deteriorated since those long-ago times. I’ll do these with a running stitch which will be uneven in both length and pathway and would never have passed my grandma’s inspection.

No matter. I’m the only person who will notice. For me, hand-stitching is meditative. That makes the extra work worth the time and effort and imperfections.

“The world is so full of a number of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.” RLS

And a tip of the hat to Dr. Seuss.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].