Wild critters, cold weather, latkes, and a moment in history

 

The gorgeous, lush poinsettia given me by a neighbor.
It occupies a place of honor on the bookcase.

Gosh, what a lot has gone on in the last twenty-four hours! For me, it started last night about eight when I read a post by someone who had seen a “large” coyote heading into our neighborhood. Truth be told, I think we have coyotes all the time, situated as we are above the zoo and the river. But when someone sends out an alert, you feel obligated—or at least I did—to take it more seriously. And what did the poster mean by “large”? How many coyotes had she seen for reference. I worry not only about Sophie, but about the little dogs in the house—and that stray yellow cat that I keep spotting in the back yard. I kept Sophie in as much as I could, much to her disgust, and was on high alert when she was out. What would I do? Not much I could, except to push my walker outside and charge the animal, yelling and screaming. I go on the theory that they are more scared of us than we are of them. Glad that so far, I haven’t had to put it to a test.

We are living with threats of sub-freezing weather and extreme wind chill. In Texas, bad weather doesn’t just happen—we like to worry over its approach for days and milk it for all its worth. But Thursday, the high is to be 35, with strong wind chill. That’s the day Jordan and Christian are going to the Baylor bowl game in the TCU stadium, but Christian tells me they will have access to indoor seating. Not sure how that works, but I have my fingers crossed. It’s supposed to be bitterly cold through Christmas Day. A test to see if the grid really will work or not. Memories of Snowmaggedon are still strong with Texans.

When my kids were little and we celebrated Hannukah, we had an annual latkes dinner with a family I knew from graduate school. I remember that making latkes was a complicated, labor-intensive thing, but I didn’t worry much about it because the men took over. We served egg and tuna salad on the side, which strikes me as strange now. The other thing I remember was that my friend’s father and mother were always in town for the holiday, and he kept a roll of dollar bills in his pocket—held together by Scotch tape, I presume. He would peel them off one at a time and distribute to the children, who were in awe. I know they remember it to this day.

So the other day I found a recipe for latkes done in the air fryer, and Jordan and I decided to try it. I’m sure my Jewish friends, past and present, are scornful—and it turns out they would be right. First, I worried about what to serve. Tuna and egg salad wouldn’t do it with Christian and Jacob, so I settled on meatloaf—which Jacob doesn’t like, so his mom made him a turkey sandwich.

Christian, being the resident air fryer expert, did the latkes, after I grated the potatoes (remind me not to volunteer for that again) and mixed the potato and onion with matzo meal, eggs, salt, and pepper. They were good—and not greasy, which was to me the advantage of the air fryer. Jordan really appreciated the absence of grease, but I missed the greasy, hot, flat cakes of the traditional method. These were potato cakes. I’ll brown a couple in a skillet in the morning and see if I can get a good crust on them. But I consider tonight’s experiment a modest fail.

I’m always struck that my children know so little about JFK’s assassination. It was almost ten years before their birth. So now I’m wondering what my great-grandchildren, as yet unborn, will know and remember about trump. But this country made history today—the first time a congressional committee has ever referred criminal charges against a former president to the Justice Department. When you think about it, that’s an earth-shattering precedent, one that could only be inspired by overwhelming evidence. Now of course it’s up to the DOJ.

And now we will get the armchair experts and the funding appeals. I’ve already gotten those emails pleading for my opinion on whether or not trump should be prosecuted. And I know they will segue into a funding appeal, as though funding a Democratic PAC could influence the DOJ. Last week, when Brittney Griner came home, we suddenly had a nation of armchair hostage negotiators who knew what Biden did wrong, what he could have done better, including bringing Paul Whelan home. Now we’ll have armchair prosecutors who know what and how Merrick Garland should be doing. I’ve already seen an opinion piece titled, “Garland is a failure.” I wish those armchair experts would shut up and let the wheels of justice grind, however slowly. The one thing we know about Garland is that he is slow, careful, and meticulous—and he doesn’t act until he’s sure he has a case. I’m sure, with the special counsel, he’s building an air-tight case. Meantime, I wish the media would pay a little more attention to what a significant moment this is: it shows, once again, that democracy works.

As I said, a day full of interesting stuff. I’m ready for peaceful sleep, with no coyotes.