My Christmas orchid towering over Serenity with her poinsettia headdress.
I feel as though I live in a greenhouse.
So wonderful!
My
project of the day was a second batch of chutney—this the cranberry/apricot. I
think I perfected my technique, because it didn’t take me nearly as long, and I
think the chutney is better. Yesterday, I let it thicken too much—good flavor
but not so great on the consistency.
Tonight,
I went to Pacific Table with three longtime friends. We try to have dinner
together fairly frequently, but tonight was in celebration of Subie’s early December
birthday. Okay, we were a bit late. We also had a small Christmas gift
exchange, and I was thrilled with the book Carol gave me on dairy restaurants. She
purchased it at New York’s Tenement Museum, Author Ben Katchor traces the history
of these establishments, originally begun to cater to kosher laws which
required the separation of meat and milk products. Eventually, some critics claim,
the dairy restaurants morphed into Dairy Queen and similar chains. The book has
wonderful, humorous illustrations, and I look forward to digging into it.
Subie
brought me a beautiful orchid, of a color I’ve not seen—sort of off-white, but
with pale striations that almost make it look like the blossoms are of thin
wood. And Kathie contributed a jigsaw puzzle which should be great fun at our
family get-together.
Lovely
evening. I ordered my usual—Caesar salad with fried oysters. Pacific Table has
hands down the best Caesar salad in town, and the fried oysters are so well
seasoned you shouldn’t even think of cocktail sauce. The restaurant was,
however, a bit noisy.
On the
way home, I mentioned that I’d been told that the light display at Cook Children’s
Hospital was spectacular, so we detoured—and were delighted that we did. It is
an absolute fairyland, wonderful to see. Cars slowly drove by—and a parked limo
blocked traffic, making a minor jam, but I guess if you can afford a stretch
limo you don’t care.
I came
home to the realization that I need to get my neighborhood newsletter out the
door first thing in the morning, so I spent much of the evening proofreading
and following up on odds and ends.
These
are the days of anticipation. For many, they are frantic days, worrying how you’ll
ever get everything done. For some of us, like me, everything seems done, so
you worry about what maybe you haven’t done. And you don’t want to start anything
new because…well, Christmas is just around the corner.
A
sense of—how to say it? Caution? Dread? —hung over us at the dinner table
tonight, because we all feel we are headed into another severe Covid season. Of course, there’s a good reason we feel that way—it’s predicted all over the media.
So, we talked about maybe having to go back to patio parties and small—what was
the word? Hives? Coveys? That small group you felt comfortable socializing with.
We all seemed to feel we were headed to mandates (which doesn’t bother any of
us), masks (doesn’t bother us either, though I don’t hear as well when people
speak through a mask), and perhaps school closures. I am the only one closely
affected by that, because I am the only one lucky enough to live with a
grandchild. For his sake, I hope schools don’t close—he hated his year at home
but bore it with good grace; on the other hand, I want to keep him safe. And my
six other grandchildren, scattered as they are. Always a dilemma.
At any
rate, when people toast, as we did tonight, to making 2022 a better year than
2020 or 2021, I have some hesitation. For my own part, I survived quarantine nicely,
pretty much with spirits intact, and I would expect and hope to do so again.
And you should see all the toilet paper Jordan has secreted away on a high
shelf in my closet. What was that phrase a while back? “Buckle up, Buttercup.
It may be a rough ride.”
What a
downer way to end a Christmas blog! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all,
and for just this brief time, put Covid and abortion and politics and warfare
out of your mind, and enjoy the season.
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