We’re all at home and dishabillé as L wakes up and gets ready to go to work (contractors get to work the sucky holiday shifts) and M works on a jigsaw puzzle of Saint Basil’s Cathedral while watching Scooby-Doo. Yesterday turned out well for food, and for about as much family-of-origin interaction as I had a mind to; Mother and Chris (all that are left of the family) showed up in the late afternoon in time for dinner at 6:30, which gave L time to wash up the good dishes, which she insists on doing herself, before going to work last night. (I did say contractors work the sucky holiday shifts.)
Dinner was not very traditional, since Chris said he didn’t want to eat any more birds and could we have rib roast instead, please? So I agreed, and went out and bought a $93 standing rib roast, which is supposed to feed about eight—we originally planned for seven at dinner, but had cancellations. Around that we had Yorkshire pudding and gravy (well, it was a beef dinner), L’s orange-ginger cranberry relish, butternut squash gratin, broccoli in a nod to something green, and pumpkin pie. Everything turned out, except for one of the Yorkshire puds, which fell and got thrown away. It might have tasted all right, but it looked plain weird, and wouldn’t have reheated worth a damn; they get all leathery. After we finished eating, Mother and Chris went back to their hotel, L went to work, and I called TxAnne and Elisa, a Mensan friend in Dallas. Mother and Chris came by again this morning just before leaving for home, and everyone pushed on her about when she’s going to quit playing around at retiring and actually do it. She’s going to be 79 in two weeks, and is well past the point when she ought to have handed the library over, but she’s too much of a nut about control to let go of it.
Tomorrow promises to hold a trip to the library for M to return movies, and a trip to the hardware store after a new tin of metal polish. And if I get very excited, I might even uncrate and assemble my new(ish) compound miter saw.