Saturday, July 01, 2017

The long holiday weekend looms

Can you believe it’s July already? We had such good, cool rain last night that it’s even harder to believe than usual. Still, the spring has gone by in a rush, which is at best a mixed blessing.

I got to wondering today why the word “looms” always jumps into my mind when I think about a long holiday weekend, and I realized it’s because when my kids got old enough to be independent, they went off and did their own thing for the holiday. I was used to a bustling household full of activity, and suddenly I had not just a weekend but a long weekend with no action at home. I used to get lonely and bored. I finally learned to counteract that by planning a lot of activities for me—Concerts in the Garden, meals out with friends, meals in with friends.

Jordan started early last week reminding me that I should make weekend plans. And I did.  Subie took me to Central Market today, which was a real treat. I had a medium-long list. We decided to take the wheelchair, because all the aisles of Central Market would be a long walk for me. We shopped the way Jordan and I do—grocery basket in my lap. First things we bought were two large cantaloupes, and as the basket got heavier, Subie joked I’d have bruises on my legs. I told her no, creases from the ridges on the bottom of the basket.

Central Market makes me feel luxurious, or pampered. I buy things I wouldn’t buy elsewhere. I love the fresh fruit and vegetables and have more confidence in them than in most stores. I didn’t buy meat or seafood today, but I never buy it anywhere else, especially in this day when chicken goes who-knows-where to be processed. Subie bought amazingly large and beautiful shrimp. My shopping list included creamy blue cheese (I found one that should do), pickled herring, lox—things I couldn’t get elsewhere.

We went home to pick up Phil, Subie’s husband, and head to lunch. An unpleasant experience: we went to the new Bread Winners in University Village, but when the young hostesses saw Phil’s seeing-eye dog, they said the dog couldn’t come in. Subie explained he’s a service dog, but they said some gobbledygook about corporate rules and it wasn’t their fault. Subie and Phil asked to talk to a manager, and one of the girls came back to report they had been wrong and the dog was welcome. We left anyway, probably won’t go back. Good lunch at Pacific Table.

My long weekend was further brightened when friends Sue and Teddy came for happy hour. We’ve been talking about mushrooms on toast for a while—my mom served that, and I think it’s a British dish. I said tonight was finally time for mushrooms, so for an appetizer, I served mushrooms sautéed in butter—nothing else, no salt or pepper even—and baguette slices. Just put the skillet on the table, so we could help ourselves. Really good but quite rich.

Lively conversation, but as they were getting ready to leave I asked Teddy to walk with me. Although he doesn’t practice now, he’s a chiropractor and knowledgeable about the mechanics of the body. I thought he’d be a good judge of how I’m doing walking. Big boost to my ego—they were both surprised and impressed at how I’m doing. (I was holding Teddy’s arm the whole time.)

So now I’m back to work. Finished the book I was reading, sent off an important email, and am ready to dig into another project. The weekend somehow doesn’t seem to loom so much tonight.

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