The weather has been obscenely warm for February with temperatures hovering near 40 degrees. Yesterday Simon noticed the Canadian geese on the C-D playing fields, and today in Lowertown I spotted a man prematurely sporting shorts. Minnesotans have been advised to enjoy the sunny, warm days while they last because snow is coming. A big, honking, authentic winter storm with piles and piles of snow is on its way!!! Provisions must be purchased (chili fixins and chocolate, for starters) and movies rented.
Sadly, though, unless the storm veers off-course—which could happen—I will have to reschedule a much anticipated lunch date with Caryl.
Highlights of the past week or more include the following:
Mice
Yes, we've been invaded. I awoke early two Fridays ago to a rustling noise in our bedroom, which sounded as if it were coming from inside a paper bag. John was so confused when I woke him that the only thing he could suggest was flight. So we trekked down to the guest bedroom—thank goodness for the extra bed—where I passed a restless night and had a dream about baby raccoons in our house. In case it has never happened to you, allow me to testify that a mouse in a paper bag sounds like an animal many times larger than itself. Later in the morning, Simon comments that he saw a tail go into our bathroom. After gathering what we needed from said bathroom, John and I decamped for the guest bathroom. On Saturday, an exterminator unearthed one mouse from a paper bag in our bedroom and two mice from the drain in our shower. Surreal. In addition to mice, Winston had a twenty-four hour bug (high fever and cold symptoms, but thankfully no barfing). Now we have bait boxes strategically located around our home, inside and out, as well as year-long service. Hopefully next fall/winter will be less eventful (seven is our grand total—and we still haven't caught mom or dad). Still, I'm totally on edge almost two weeks later.
Book groupA small but lively group met at the Chowgirls' lunch spot in Dinkytown, which is owned by book group member Amy B., to talk about Patricia Hampl's Blue Arabesque, which we all disliked for its pretentiouness and bad editing. Terry L. brought Alan T. as a "special" guest. He regaled us with a supreme arrogance that must be inculcated in all Random House reps. He was a terrible name-dropper, too.
Cooking
From my resolution list, I made gnocchi. John had requested a gravy to accompany these light as a feather dumplings so I made a ragu from Lund's meatloaf mix (veal, pork, chuck), white wine, stock, soffritto (minced carrots, celery, onions), tomato puree, and milk. The ragu was fantastic; the gnocchi needed more salt. Learning: I need to take my time forming the dumplings—it's not a difficult operation. Next time, I hope one or both of the kids will help, as I think they'd each have fun rolling the dough into "snakes", then rolling the dough nuggets on a fork.
Reading
Current fiction is Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski, a novel aboutmissionaries in Thailand, demonic possession, taboo sex, and a murder. So far, a confident writing style has sucked me in, as has the exotic setting. Current nonfiction is Heat by Bill Buford, an account of the author's stint in Mario Batali's kitchen. I'm also listening to Cormac McCarthy's The Road, a father-son novel set in the bleak aftermath of a global catastrophe. A real unnerving tension runs through this novel, enhanced by road warriors and cannibalism. To ameliorate the effects of McCarthy's creepy book, I have just read aloud Henry Huggins to Simon and Winston. When I was a kid, I absolutely adored Beverly Cleary. Reading HH as an adult reminds me of how different being a kid in a small Midwestern town during the 1970s was from being a kid in a large Midwestern metropolitan area in the 2000s. We had free reign of our "neighborhood". I road my bike almost everywhere around the lake I wanted to go. And, my parents even turned us loose to run around "downtown" Winner, SoDak when we were in junior high school. Anyway, Henry Higgins's childhood seems a lot more "aw shucks" than I imagine Simon and Winston's will be. Times change. Even so, Henry's adventures pleased my kids—we had a lot of good laughs.
Skiing
The boys had their last skiing lesson at Mount Como last Saturday. On Sunday, we took advantage of reduced price lift tickets at Afton Alps and skiied. Well, to be perfectly honest, John skiied with the boys because my flabby body couldn't support me on skis. My calves were stretched to the pulling point (they're still sore four days later), and I felt so claustrophobic in ski boots, especially since I couldn't give my muscles a good deep stretch. John—bless him—taught the boys how to ride the chair life (Simon rode by himself). They had so much fun, they now want to ski every day. I vow to rehabilitate my muscles and lose weight so that I can join them. I also want to take lessons and improve my skills so we can go ski big mountains, like the Rockies or the Alps, during Christmas breaks.
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