Pretty darn close to a perfect day
I had a really good day yesterday, and I just feel like sharing it with you all. Steve stayed at my place Saturday night so that we could go Christmas-tree-shopping during daylight hours. We slept late and had a good breakfast involving lots of sweet, spicy chai tea, then headed over to the Home Despot where we picked out a lovely 6 ½ foot noble fir, took it home, gave it lots of water, and proceeded to string it up with lights. I then made a huge loaf of rosemary-parmesan bread and a pot of split pea soup, which we proceeded to eat while sitting on a pile of blankets in front of a warm, toasty fire, basking in the glow of the Christmas lights.
It just doesn’t get much better than that.
Of course, Saturday was pretty miserable due to various mother-related incidents. (For example, she randomly becoming obsessed with the idea of trying limoncello because a friend of hers brought it up recently. Because my brother was in town, we went to Olive Garden, where she ordered a Strawberry-limoncello martini--despite the fact that she’s morally offended by the idea of drinking more than a sip of alcohol. She then became particularly offended when, after taking her small sip, the rest of us didn’t want to drink the rest. Note that she hadn't asked us if we wanted any *before* ordering the drink. Then, later on during dinner, she proceeded to dip her salty, greasy breadsticks in the martini. She said it tasted good. And people wonder why my mother drives me so crazy.)
But still, Sunday was fabulous.
It just doesn’t get much better than that.
Of course, Saturday was pretty miserable due to various mother-related incidents. (For example, she randomly becoming obsessed with the idea of trying limoncello because a friend of hers brought it up recently. Because my brother was in town, we went to Olive Garden, where she ordered a Strawberry-limoncello martini--despite the fact that she’s morally offended by the idea of drinking more than a sip of alcohol. She then became particularly offended when, after taking her small sip, the rest of us didn’t want to drink the rest. Note that she hadn't asked us if we wanted any *before* ordering the drink. Then, later on during dinner, she proceeded to dip her salty, greasy breadsticks in the martini. She said it tasted good. And people wonder why my mother drives me so crazy.)
But still, Sunday was fabulous.