This past weekend part of my spending spree (a direct contribution to economic recovery, I might add) included two chenille blankets for my bed, with which I am unreasonably happy. They are soft, warm, lightweight and look like velvet. The night after I got them I noticed that one fringed edge was severely tangled, and succumbing to mildly compulsive impulses, I spent about half an hour unknotting it. The next night I noticed that in the intervening day, when all that had happened to the blanket was its usage on my bed while I slept and being folded the next morning, the fringe was entirely snarled again. Sort of like life - you fix a problem, thinking it will stay fixed, only to find that it's all mucked up again the next day.

I've noticed that I am definitely a clean-up-while-I-cook type of person. Every implement that is done being used is put either in the sink or the dishwasher. All ingredients, which I do get out all at once before I start cooking, are promptly returned to their correct location as soon as they are finished with. Recipes and cookbooks are stowed when I'm sure I have the recipe clearly in mind (sometimes the definition of "clearly" can vary a good bit). Surfaces that have been contaminated with raw meat or eggs are disinfected immediately. Trash is thrown away as it occurs and food waste is scraped into the disposal. All of this happens while the dish is cooking, even if I realize that the cleaning up could compromise (i.e., burn, overcook, damage) the quality of the food. The compulsive part of my personality just takes over and the locks the meek cook into a dark corner until the straightening up has been accomplished. Perhaps this is why my kids accuse me of having burned soup. I swear it didn't happen.

The deer have started to make their annual appearance in our neighborhood, racing through the yards after dark when startled by a car. They have already started to eat the bushes, chewing on the azaleas and nibbling the euonymus (which is an evergreen plant, supposed to provide some color in the winter) in front of the garage to a grid of bare sticks. Last winter we were confused as to why the bottom two-thirds of the plant were bare when the top third still had leaves and thought that some dire fungus was climbing up the euonymus. The landscaper told us that the leaves were gone only as far up as the deer could reach. I need a quick, humane anti-deer remedy.