RedStag of Ember
Nov. 17th, 2024 09:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoWe went for another pretty slow walk under the same chill grey skies this morning. Still, we did a little better than last time. I'm dismayed by how feeble I still feel. I guess it will take awhile to recover. Still coughing, but not as much. The problem is that it's the worst when I'm trying to go to sleep! However, I do think the virus is losing its grip on me, bit by bit. I read several of the poems from my new/old book to the Sparrowhawk. I cut up the chicken for him to facilitate one of his yummy stir frys. My stomach is still acting up, and some rice and veggies with a little chicken is very soothing.
There was a bright spot in our day, kind of like when the sun briefly showed as a pale gleam through the clouds, when we texted briefly with Tron and the Lumberjack. They had chosen a Thanksgiving menu from a local vegetarian place they like, and it will be our pleasure to treat them. It's the next best thing to hosting them. It makes me happy to know that they will have something festive in their day and we will have a little share in it. The Sparrowhawk was looking up eggnog recipes, because a friend wants to come over and learn how to make it.
This reminded me of a very happy time at Christmas 2014 (if I remember the year correctly). It was the year my father died. While he was still alive, the Duchess had been hosting Christmas at her house so we'd all be near our parents and could include them. For some years, we would carry him off to her house in a wheelchair--usually under protest--and position him where the festivities could swirl around him. But that last year, he had been too ill to travel even that far, so we all gathered in his room and sang carols together for him. After he died, the Duchess really needed a break. I invited everyone to my house, including my mother, who stayed with us for a few days.
People started arriving on what we called "tree-trimming day," traditionally December 22. Families arrived in shifts, each one greeted by cheers from those who had already come. They ate in shifts too, places at the table conveniently vacated as the next lot arrived. Mr. and Ms. Science brought Ms. Science's mother with them, and she brought with her a large traditional Christmas cake, which she was very proud of. I had made apple crisp (I think), and the Sparrowhawk had produced a vat of eggnog, made the fancy way with clouds of whipped eggwhites topping off the creamy drink. People couldn't decide which dessert to eat, and didn't want to slight any of the makers, so under the influence of Christmas wine and merriment, they served themselves all three desserts--spicy cake with a topping of apples and sugary cinnamon crust, and then eggnog sloshed over all to moisten it. We had such a good time. If the Ghost of Christmas Past, in the form of my father's shade, had visited, he would have been happy to see the hilarity shared by all.
It's funny to think that I've been blogging so long that many of you already heard that story in its original form. But if you're like me, you've already forgotten it, so it doesn't matter that I'm repeating myself.
There was a bright spot in our day, kind of like when the sun briefly showed as a pale gleam through the clouds, when we texted briefly with Tron and the Lumberjack. They had chosen a Thanksgiving menu from a local vegetarian place they like, and it will be our pleasure to treat them. It's the next best thing to hosting them. It makes me happy to know that they will have something festive in their day and we will have a little share in it. The Sparrowhawk was looking up eggnog recipes, because a friend wants to come over and learn how to make it.
This reminded me of a very happy time at Christmas 2014 (if I remember the year correctly). It was the year my father died. While he was still alive, the Duchess had been hosting Christmas at her house so we'd all be near our parents and could include them. For some years, we would carry him off to her house in a wheelchair--usually under protest--and position him where the festivities could swirl around him. But that last year, he had been too ill to travel even that far, so we all gathered in his room and sang carols together for him. After he died, the Duchess really needed a break. I invited everyone to my house, including my mother, who stayed with us for a few days.
People started arriving on what we called "tree-trimming day," traditionally December 22. Families arrived in shifts, each one greeted by cheers from those who had already come. They ate in shifts too, places at the table conveniently vacated as the next lot arrived. Mr. and Ms. Science brought Ms. Science's mother with them, and she brought with her a large traditional Christmas cake, which she was very proud of. I had made apple crisp (I think), and the Sparrowhawk had produced a vat of eggnog, made the fancy way with clouds of whipped eggwhites topping off the creamy drink. People couldn't decide which dessert to eat, and didn't want to slight any of the makers, so under the influence of Christmas wine and merriment, they served themselves all three desserts--spicy cake with a topping of apples and sugary cinnamon crust, and then eggnog sloshed over all to moisten it. We had such a good time. If the Ghost of Christmas Past, in the form of my father's shade, had visited, he would have been happy to see the hilarity shared by all.
It's funny to think that I've been blogging so long that many of you already heard that story in its original form. But if you're like me, you've already forgotten it, so it doesn't matter that I'm repeating myself.
one of the gifts of age
Date: 2024-11-18 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-11-18 01:49 pm (UTC)