Coldest Days of the Winter

I’m in Denver where it’s about 10°. Back home in Madison it’s -10°. And in Minneapolis it was also about -10° this afternoon and they’re marching in the streets.

We’re here visiting the grandkids. Here’s Callan, the newest one.

Jasper at about the same age when I first started doing granny daycare at his house.

Another set of two:

It’s been two weeks since Weir died and the onslaught of memories and stories on the socials is still going strong. Saw this one for the first time yesterday and I like it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

View this post on Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A post shared by Grateful Dead (@gratefuldead)

So I guess that’s three things. Here’s another three.

Last Sunday, MLK eve, we were supposed to have a dinner party. Eight people, our band of retired librarians and archivists. At 6:30. Sometime between 5:30 and 6:00, one couple texted that they’d just been told they might’ve been exposed to Covid at a family thing in Milwaukee. So they weren’t coming. And then one of another couple said their spouse had a bad cold, but they’d come if it was still happening. So I called the other couple and at first they were up for up it, but then admitted that they’d been having a serious, lengthy, conversation about footwear. One of them is a little unsteady, and it was probably the most treacherous surface, light new snow on top of almost clear pavement, hiding random slippery spots. So we postponed. 

And proceeded to put things away, extra plates and dishes and tablecloth, and then I had to figure out what to do with the food.

The meat, a pork roast I’d had in the freezer, a bone-in tenderloin, was in the oven. I’d even bought a couple extra pounds to be sure to have enough for 8 people. The potatoes were keeping warm on top of Mark’s stove. I’d steamed the Brussels sprouts, the focaccia and cookies were baked. I’d cleaned the greens and made salad dressing. I divided the sprouts, and sautéed a small amount with butter and nutmeg and salt and pepper and crumbled chestnuts.  I let the meat rest and then carved a few slices off both kinds, the newly bought from the fancy organic butcher, and the from the freezer (we decided we liked the meat from the freezer roast, that was from a local farmers market farmer, better than the meat from the fancy organic butcher), and carried everything upstairs and Mark and I had a little dinner in front of the Sunday PBS shows. Miss Scarlet for mains and All Creatures Great and Small for dessert.

On Monday, MLK day, when they came to pick up Jasper, I gave Al and Emma the un-sautéed Brussels sprouts and a hunk of focaccia and some salad greens and some cookies. We had roast pork sandwiches on focaccia with greens and avocado for dinner that night. I separated the meat from bones and froze it all, planning to cook some beans with the bones, later. Wednesday night after we had leftover pizza and cookies and salad for dinner, and I ate too much of the last four linzers and composted the rest. I still felt too full when we had to get up at 5:00am to catch our flight to Denver on Thursday morning.

Here’s three coffees in Denver.

Oh and look, here’s two more Honey Hill brekkies from last August and February. So we’re up to five this set.

Final pair, pineapple upside down cake that was too gooey in the middle because I followed the recipe instructions to bake for 43-48 minutes, instead of the evidence of my own senses. Mark really liked the cake though, so maybe I’ll make it plain or with a different topping. And once I removed the under-cooked batter in the center it was easy to cut the remaining cake into nice small, snack-size slices.

Now moving on to random, first one’s still Denver.

John and Megan went to one of his grad school friend’s wedding in New England. Here he is at a vegan pizza place.

And Facebook sent me a memory of myself serving leftover Christmas cookies at the food pantry in January 2020, not too long before pandemic shut the world down.