I Hab A Code

Dammit.  I was fending it off pretty well until Friday when things evidently went to hell.  I woke up Saturday feeling... okay, but by mid-afternoon it was evident that the mental powers that I used to bring the snow I wanted was toast to the virus that wanted to overtake me.  By suppertime I decided to skip eating and spent the evening on the couch under a lap robe reading a real paper book (retro!) with a pot of tea beside me.  (oh, I should have put the tea cozy on the pot, that would have kept the tea warmer, wouldn't it?  *head, slap* I blame the germs for making me stupid)  I need to get this posted so I can go out back to fill the birdfeeders and wait for the flyover before the Packer game.  I think it'll be helicopters, 2 flew over in formation earlier on the standard flyover path.  I want to ride in a helicopter, and not a Life Flight one with DS's friend PT hovering over me either.  Are you ready for Christmas to come?  I might be.  I need to lay out all the presernts on the bed today, start the wrapping, and fill in any gaps.  Good thing Goodwill's close, eh?  Don't knock it, I find lots of cool things there, and not always used stuff either.  I'm also cooking up a batch of Boilo, a traditional Pennsylvania coal region Christmas drink, that sounds like just the thing to knock out my cold--or make me forget I have one.  I'm not much of a drinker so a thimblefull will probably knock me on my ass so I won't care that I have a cold.  It has to be good for me, it has lemons and oranges and raisins and honey and spices and whiskey, and some recipes have fresh ginger too.  That's all good stuff.  It should make me feel all better.  I'll report later--if I can still feel my fingers after a "dose."  I found quite a few family boilo recipes on the web and I'm using the crockpot one because it makes the least and also... crockpot... anything made in the crockpot's bound to be good.  I went downstairs and dug out all of the dusty bottles with about an inch of whiskey (leftover from Durwood's parents and God only knows what else) and poured them into a measuring cup until I had the required amount.  What?  Whiskey's whiskey, right?  It shouldn't matter if I've blended different brands, some of it was labeled blended already, I just reblended it.  On CBS Sunday Morning today they did a story about Placido Domingo who is just about the best opera tenor ever, and they showed a clip of the original Three Tenors concert broadcast.  Did you know they only did it because they were all such avid soccer fans and then they got to go to the World Cup games in 1990?  Can you imagine them telling their wives, "honey, I have to go, it's business."  Yeah, right.  I remember watching the concert on PBS with DS & DS when they were in middle school and having so much fun seeing the tenors as real people (Pavoratti was chewing something, gum maybe, Carreras had caterpillar eyebrows that he used to great effect, and Domingo was familiar as Placido Flamingo from Sesame Street).  I'm playing the Three Tenors Christmas cd as I write this.  It's beautiful and I love Pavoratti's fractured English.  I know, I'm sick, but despite my lack of high-toned appreciation I do love listening to them.  I get the benefits of "culture" despite my pedestrian attitudes.

December 23--Bronzino, Portrait of a Young Man.  "You can sure tell that he thought quite a bit of himself," Carla said.  Nell nodded.  "I'd rather be looking at a young Italian man today.  In Italy.  Right now."  Her clipped words made Carla turn to look at her.  "What?"  Carla said.  Nell shuffled her feet on the worn terrazzo floor and looked everywhere but directly at her friend.  "Oh, nothing," she said, shaking her head.  "Well... I think we should go to Europe, especially Italy, in the spring."  She wrung her hands and peeked out from under to her lashes to see what impression her words had made.  Carla folded her arms.  "Why spring?"  "Late spring, after it stops raining and things green up and bloom," Nell said, her words coming faster and faster.  "We could do one of those wine tours or a culinary tour.  You know you like Italian food and we need to get out of our ruts."

Zzzzzzzz.  That's how that went last night.  Just now I went out, filled the feeders, watched 2 great big, bright orange, Coast Guard helicopters make their stately way across the sky, and it is gorgeous out there, cold and sunny and windless.  I'm going to love running around doing errands in that clear sharp air.  I've got the Vince Guaraldi cd in the car.  Charlie Brown Christmas music, yay!  I'm off!
--Barbara Sue