Danette

“Blood Orange Liqueur 4 blood oranges 1 lemon Fresh ginger, about 2" long, peeled and sliced 2 cups vodka 1 cup water 1 cup sugar Wash and dry the oranges and lemon. Peel the skin, leaving as much of the pith on the fruit as possible. Put peels in a quart jar. Remove the pith from two of the oranges, reserving the other two oranges and the lemon for another use. Cut the de-pithed oranges into pieces, place in a quart jar, and smash the orange with the back of a spoon against the sides of the jar. Add ginger and stir. Pour the vodka into the jar. To make simple syrup, combine water and sugar in a saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Cool. Pour the syrup into the fruit-alcohol mixture and cover tightly. Store in cool, dark place for at least one month, shaking occasionally. Strain the liqueur through a double layer of cheesecloth into a pitcher. Strain a second time through a new double layer of cheesecloth into bottles. Cap and store or use immediately.”
― Susan Wittig Albert, Blood Orange

“Usually I spare myself from the news, because if it’s not propaganda, then it’s one threat or another exaggerated to the point of absurdity, or it’s the tragedy of storm-quake-tsunami, of bigotry and oppression misnamed justice, of hatred passed off as righteousness and honor called dishonorable, all jammed in around advertisements in which a gecko sells insurance, a bear sells toilet tissue, a dog sells cars, a gorilla sells investment advisers, a tiger sells cereal, and an elephant sells a drug that will improve your lung capacity, as if no human being in America any longer believes any other human being, but trusts only the recommendations of animals.”
― Dean Koontz, Deeply Odd

“People with dyslexia had to look harder at the details surrounding them and overcome a dysfunction of the visual pathways, decoding what information was meaningful and what wasn’t. It was like trying to hear what someone was saying at a really loud party. For dyslexics, the world was full of visual noise.”
― Lis Wiehl, Waking Hours