What Sunday should be—with a minor crisis

 

My chicken dinner from Drew's Place

I looked forward to Sunday for several days. It was shaping up to be the kind of day I love—no pressure, and I could float through the day. I could sleep late, I had leftovers for lunch, and I’d worry about supper when the time came. I had a book to read, and a friend gave me an idea about something I wanted to write. To top it off, I finally ended with fried chicken leftovers—perfect supper.

Last night, we took fried chicken from Drew’s Place to Joe and Mary Dulle. They’ve had a meal train feeding them while Mary recovers from surgery, but the meal train had made its final stop. Jordan and I always said when that happened, we’d go to a restaurant near their new apartment famed for the fried chicken and take it to them; as it turned out, the classic lunch place, Drew’s, was much more reasonable. So, chicken in hand, we arrived for a tour of the apartment, a glass of wine, and a good visit. Great to see Mary looking so well, and now I can visualize them in their apartment. We came home, each nibbled on our chicken—of course we bought some for ourselves!—and gathered on the patio when the Burtons’ friends Sarah and Jay came over. Lovely evening, but it eventually got too chilly for me.

Yesterday morning Jordan, Sarah, and I had gone plant shopping. I know it’s a pain for Jordan, but it’s delight for me to be rolled through all those aisles in a transport chair instead of having to concentrate on my walker and my footing. This way I could focus on the plants. We bought things I’d never heard of, like optic grass, and old familiars like sweet potato vine, coleus—not sure why I can’t think of the others, but it was a hefty bill, so we got lots more.

Going to the nursery and then to visit the Dulles meant I was off the property twice in one day—as Christian said, a wild day for me. I don’t think it’s age so much as it is the breaking of my routine that tires me, but I was tired last night. When we came home from the Dulles, we found that Sophie doesn’t like her routine disturbed either—kt was a bit late for her dinner, and she had strewn dinner bowls on my bedroom floor, water bowl in the kitchen, and Pill Pockets (she couldn’t open it) in the living room. Sweet spoiled baby!

The back yard is beginning to look like summer. Jordan has most of the pots filled, but we need new grass—the winter rye was really awful this year and has huge, ugly bare patches. Somehow the lawn guys took out my mums a couple of months ago—I had wanted them left until time for spring flowers, but now there’s unslightly barren ground in front of the deck. Instead of pentas, which were a disaster last year, I’m going to put in native plants. Lots of bright yellow with black-eyed susans, gallardia, coreopsis, and the like.

So back to today, Christian and I collaborated on matzo brei (I had sold it to him as like migas, but he pointed out migas have pico and seasonings). The matzo brei tasted like matzo (big surprise) and was good, maybe a bit bland and a lot heavy.

Jordan went to the grocery but was gone an extraordinarily long time. She came home to tell us she had a flat, had to go get Fix-a-Flat and fix it herself. That left a quandary: they couldn’t drive to Coppell on that tire, they couldn’t drive Jacob’s SUV because it goes in tomorrow for brake pads, and they wouldn’t drive the VW. Jordan saw it as yet another sign the gods are picking on them; I saw it as an unfortunate incident. They ended not going to have dinner with Christian’s dad but going to a friends’ fiftieth birthday party.

So now I’m about to heat the potatoes and green beans that came with my chicken and have a lovely dinner—still have fried chicken. And a book I’m enjoying. Can life get any better?

Hope everyone has a great week.