Red and green strands of light hang along the eaves of El Charro, the Mexican restaurant I sometimes walk to on my lunch break. On the drive home, as I passed it, immediately an image of our still-up 8-foot Frosty the Snowman guiltily came to mind. It isn’t four weeks past Christmas already, is it? My next thought, instead of “We should take that down tomorrow,” was “Are we close enough to next Christmas to leave it up?”
We’re not. So down it’ll go tomorrow. Finally. The real motivation is my cleaning and organizing neuroticism that I fall into when we’re having guests over. Tomorrow at 6 pm, be here or be square.
Just so you know, I’m making breaded chicken, fettuccine alfredo, zuppa toscana soup, and breadsticks. We have Joanne coming with a Mediterranean salad.
I remember learning the Alfredo recipe at a team dinner for my high school basketball team. Never before had I tasted anything as scrumptious, and over the top as I had that night, and no part of me could leave that house without those magic ingredients. I doubt I’d ever cooked at that point in my mid-teens, but for Valentine’s Day shortly after, a girlfriend and I made a special dinner for our boyfriends, and that was the meal we cooked.
Those magic ingredients – heavy cream, butter, parmesan, cream cheese – to this day still make me do a midair forward then backflip.
Today was a day that I’m grateful that I work three days a week. In one session, I discussed the possibility of schizophrenia with a client, but I hadn’t done that before, wasn’t certain it was the diagnosis, and felt like I tiptoed my way through the conversation. Which is fine. At dinner, a friend with decades of work as a Clinical Psychologist will join us, so I know what some of our dinner conversation will be as I swirl some noodles on my fork.
Regarding the land in Georgia we’re purchasing from Dave’s brother, we’ll hopefully get the contract paperwork done after driving around town in search of a notary. I recall one time looking into the requirements of becoming a notary, which had I done it, could I notarize myself? Probably not, unfortunately.
While on my walk, I took pictures for you. The first I walked a half-block past, but after thinking about how cool and ingenious the number dials were for gauging size, I decided it was best to turn around and get proof.
The other is this: And ho ho ho, look who else doesn’t have their Christmas stuff down?
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 