A perfectly rosy day

 

   

 That’s the kind of day I’ve had—a perfectly rosy day. This morning, the sun shone so brightly that I thought I might have to wear sunglasses inside. And though I thought the prediction was for low seventies, the temperature soon climbed near eighty. Balmy and gorgeous with a slight breeze.

The main event today was a visit from my longtime friend, Linda. We’ve probably known each other over forty years, with the friendship increasing as we grew older. We’ve seen each other through bad times and good, and we can laugh together about ex-husbands (mine) and deceased husbands (hers). We have old friends in common and feel close to each other’s kids.

Linda lives in Granbury. If you shopped the square a few years ago and went into an upscale gift store called Almost Heaven, that was Linda’s store. After too many years, she got out of retail and, like me, is now retired. Having grown up in Granbury and lived there most but not all of her adult life, she hates Texas summers and bought herself a tiny condo in Taos. And though I encouraged her to write—she’s good at it—she found her passion in painting, probably because of one teacher in Taos. So anyway, between distance to Granbury and her long absences in Taos, we don’t get together nearly as much as we’d like. Pandemic complicates things. We were masked at first and socially distanced this afternoon. One thing Linda said resonated with me. She talked about how lucky we are that each of us has our passion—her painting and my writing. Our passions keep us young.

I fixed tuna salad—ubiquitous at my cottage—and Jordan served the three of us lovely salad plates with tuna, cottage cheese, a pickle, hearts of palm, and a scone to top it off. She laughed that she still has her waiting skills—she can hand carry several dishes at once. We loved it and have already decided on the menu for our next get-together—salmon croquettes (I’ll fix those) and salad with blue cheese dressing (Jordan’s specialty).

Sophie is an important part of my patio entertainment. She wanders from person to person, only occasionally venturing beyond the patio to scold an errant squirrel or investigate something. The patio is her territory, and she is most happy there.

After Linda headed home, Sophie and I had a long and lovely nap. I slept so deeply!

Tonight, while we wait for whatever Christian will do with chicken, Jordan is in my tiny kitchen, making the cheeseball that has been a holiday tradition all her life and most of mine. I remember Christmas Eve when I was quite young—we went to friends of my parents for a huge buffet. Two items I remember are marinated shrimp (I’m now allergic and can’t eat those) and cheeseball made with blue cheese, cream cheese, and Old English, which they no longer sell. We use Velveeta—shhh! Add a few other ingredients, chill and serve with crackers. But it’s not easy to mix all those cheeses. I’m glad Jordan is doing it and not me.

I just turned on the news. Full of the horror of Covid19. Two terrible things are threatening our country, our people and our way of life—the virus and the political upheaval caused by trump’s attempt at a coup. In my cottage, I feel apart from all the turmoil sweeping the country. I won’t tempt fate by being smug about being isolated and safe, but I do feel like I’m in a bubble that allows me rosy days.