This image reminded me that we went to see the Waring Blenders, once, with Mr. Fred Waring conducting---lovely evening. The program was wonderful, and I especially remember the audience singing along to "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," in that beautiful auditorium, with the notes of that sweet, swaying old-fashioned love song gently wafting up from all those voices, as they must have from music halls, concert venues, choir events, and even burlesque houses and saloons for decades.
I'm having quite an afternoon with a blender, myself, because Caro, Bless Her Heart in the BEST way, is in the midst of having a root canal. She hasn't eaten for a couple of days because of the pain, and I was determined to make her something she can sip through a straw. "Room temperature or barely warm, please," she mumbled from beneath the covers just now when I went to check on her.
And you know what she wanted? Last night's leftover butterbeans, pureed. I was kidding when I mentioned them in the Bang-Dade post, but I made a pot of them last night so she'd have something soft to nibble on. Now I've made her the puree, with just enough of the pot liquor to make it a creamy soup---I tasted a little spoontip, and it's like the babyfood that savvy babies would order, IF they could talk.
I also made a fresh strawberry smoothie, with vanilla yogurt, a little apple juice, and a sprinkle of Splenda, coming to room temp, and will make her some very creamy mashed potatoes in a little bit so they can cool off some.
This is just SO sad, and she's so brave and I'm the one who's crying about it. We're soldiering (and blending) on, so moire non when there's more time.