Pinto beans and beautiful beets
Last night at the grocery store I remembered that I’ve been wanting to cook a big pot of beans. So I got some bulk pinto beans. Pinto beans are the best because they remind me of Mama, my Dad’s mother. She would have been 107 this year. She had a funny story involving pinto beans, according to one of her daughters, but I never heard the story. Maybe I’ll ask my Dad if he knows.
Later I dreamt about the beans. Someone had decided to cook them, but there wasn’t time enough. Luckily they didn’t use them all up.
I haven’t cooked the beans yet but I did finally do the beets last night. Suddenly I love beets, don’t know why, always was repulsed by them before. So I cooked some for the first time, and they turned out beautifully. Beautiful beets.
Then I saved the beautiful beet water and I’m dying a pair of white undies. I’d forgotten about them until just now. They’re still sitting in the beet water on the kitchen counter. They ought to be pretty darn pink by now.