Thursday, December 17, 2015
A Thousand Tiny Meatballs
No, really, that's how many Durwood thinks he got from the two pounds of meat, two eggs, and a half cup of breadcrumbs. See? He ran the meatball sweatshop all by himself yesterday (thanks, Dear, you're a prince) so the house smelled great when I got home and there was this bag jam-packed with teeny tiny meatballs in the fridge. I don't know how he gets them so small but if he's willing to put in the hours to roll the bitty things, who am I to complain? Doing it this way gives you at least one meatball in every spoonful of soup. Yum.
After supper I went downstairs to wrap gifts and make sure there's a modicum of parity in the piles. Even a pile this small takes longer than I ever expect it to. There's one more gift still "in the mail" that I'm counting on arriving by Saturday. If not, someone will get an IOU and since we're celebrating 5 days early, I'm not fussed. Durwood and I agreed to give each other something small since our real Christmas gift to each other is a four night runaway to Door County at the end of February. We're at the stage of life where "stuff" means less than experiences and time together, but it's still nice to have a little something to unwrap.
I saw the sun for a few minutes yesterday afternoon and had high hopes for today but I suspect I'm doomed to disappointment. Thank god for full-spectrum lamps. These constant gray skies are getting me down.
I didn't knit at all at work yesterday because I spent the time redoing the calendar for 2016. Mrs. Boss had done the hard work of changing the dates and making executive decisions about what should go where but the actual act of rejiggering a calendar as detailed as ours is a tedious process involving lots of deleting and "oops, that doesn't go there." I got through August so I'll tackle the last bit today. Oh, and I'll be working next Wednesday too since Mr. Boss' schedule changed so I'll only have 18 days off and not in one long stretch but still, I am not complaining. It's going to be good. (It'll give me lots of time to sew the fun thing I want to give LC for her second birthday at the beginning of January too.)
December 17--Rob Goldman. They had their heads together and they were whispering. Helen strained her ears but she couldn't hear a word. An airport was a great place to people watch. You saw all the emotions from joy to sorrow and every permutation in between. Helen had been coming to the airport at least once a week for years. She didn't like that you had to have to have a ticket to go down to the gates, that's where the real action was, or it used to be anyway. She supposed that no one waiting for someone could go down there either so the joyful reunions and tearful goodbyes happened just before the security checkpoint. She tried to get a comfy seat with a good view so she didn't miss anything good.
I am determined to get to work on time today so I'm going to slap some photos on here and vamoose. Hasta la vista, babies.