I went to a dinner party tonight—Jordan’s first dinner to cook in the house in the six weeks they’ve been there. They finally have things unpacked enough that she can use the kitchen. Christian was in Minneapolis for the Ryder Cup, and Jordan wanted fishy meals while he was away. So I picked three, two of which you know about from last night’s blog. I have to add for all my moaning and complaining about no lemons, I forgot I had lots of limes. Put some on the tuna today, and we both enjoyed it for lunch.
|prep for salmon tacos|
Tonight’s menu was salmon tacos. Jordan assured me Christian wouldn’t be home in time for supper—I had hesitated because he will eat some fish but particularly dislikes salmon. So we started fixing tacos, when he called to say his plane had landed. Then we fiddled and postponed. Jordan made our salmon tacos—with avocado, cilantro, lime, and feta. For the boys, Christian and Jacob, she made hamburger tacos with lots of avocado. Jacob loved everything but the feta, ended up eating three or four tacos. But our cook couldn’t find any of her spices—I know the feeling.
This was the third time I was in the house since I moved to the cottage. That first night we ate dinner inside; I was briefly in there the morning we flew to Chicago, and it was an empty mess. Jordan had been wanting me to see it—tonight it looks like a house someone lives in, with living room, dining room and bedroom furniture attractively arranged. Their furniture is bulkier than mine—much of it Christian’s before they married—it reflects that masculine sensibility. The rugs are Oriental pattern—but probably not Oriental—and darker in color than mine were. There’s a preponderance of plum in upholstery and accessories—it’s a fashionable color this fall again. What goes round, comes round.
It’s been a good weekend—lazy and slow, and I got lots done. Am in the midst of reading books submitted for the Sarton Award from Story Circle Network. And I’ve caught up with some insurance work. And, oh yes, I prepared my mail-in vote today. So I start the new week with an almost clean slate.
To end on a happy note, I would not want anyone to think Sophie is not completely at ease in her environment. I keep telling her position is all in life, but above you see how she disregards that bit of advice—Back legs straight up in the air, head twisted in an unnatural angle, front paws curled around. Sound asleep. They say when a dog sleeps on its back, with legs spread akimbo, it means the dog is perfectly happy and feels safe. So my lectures on ladylike posture fall on deaf ears, but she’s happy and secure.