Everyone on Facebook is posting about the big game, and H. is down the block at John's watching it, too. I'm tempted, there's so much interest. It seems the hip thing to do. But no, am heading to bed. Knowing me, it would be one giant excuse to eat chips and dip, anyway.
Today, Figgy worked, H. drove her back and forth and caught up with organizing his home office, and I drove to Connecticut. Sis and Don took me to the Indian Harbor Yacht Club for a lovely lunch overlooking the water. [They got married on a sailboat there 16 years ago.] Then we made a pilgrimage to Greenwich Avenue, where I dragged her into Vineyard Vines, Tory Burch and Kate Spade but we bought nothing. That was definitely your birthday present, she said dryly of braving those stores. [She's more of a Lands' End or Lord & Taylor shopper, and doesn't like logos, of which Tory has many.]
Next, Sis drove us to Greenwich Point, where we sat in the car and listened to old phone messages Dad left her last year on her iPhone voice mail. We walked out to look at the water but it was too cold for Sis, so I just stood for a few minutes by the beach. Even for a quick breath on a gray winter day, I am grateful to see the surf. Dad, I want to remember you happy and healthy, I said as I looked at the churning waves. You gave us such humor and intelligence and goodness. I want to hold onto that. I don't want to forget it. I want to carry it forward.
My Sis is good. She even made me a little heart-shaped walnut cake and she and Don sang to me. She also presented a tiny tin of her cream cheese spritz cookies, so elf-sized and delicate that I later balanced one on my pinky to show Figgy it was no bigger than the stone on a flashy cocktail ring.
Back home, birthday dinner H. made--filet mignon, baked potatoes, Brussels sprouts and Maida Heatter brownies with ice cream, all served on my parents' wedding china. He reported that he bought Scharffen Berger chocolate and Irish butter for the brownie recipe. I was impressed. He really has been watching. ;)
Good night.
TCOY
Today, Figgy worked, H. drove her back and forth and caught up with organizing his home office, and I drove to Connecticut. Sis and Don took me to the Indian Harbor Yacht Club for a lovely lunch overlooking the water. [They got married on a sailboat there 16 years ago.] Then we made a pilgrimage to Greenwich Avenue, where I dragged her into Vineyard Vines, Tory Burch and Kate Spade but we bought nothing. That was definitely your birthday present, she said dryly of braving those stores. [She's more of a Lands' End or Lord & Taylor shopper, and doesn't like logos, of which Tory has many.]
Next, Sis drove us to Greenwich Point, where we sat in the car and listened to old phone messages Dad left her last year on her iPhone voice mail. We walked out to look at the water but it was too cold for Sis, so I just stood for a few minutes by the beach. Even for a quick breath on a gray winter day, I am grateful to see the surf. Dad, I want to remember you happy and healthy, I said as I looked at the churning waves. You gave us such humor and intelligence and goodness. I want to hold onto that. I don't want to forget it. I want to carry it forward.
My Sis is good. She even made me a little heart-shaped walnut cake and she and Don sang to me. She also presented a tiny tin of her cream cheese spritz cookies, so elf-sized and delicate that I later balanced one on my pinky to show Figgy it was no bigger than the stone on a flashy cocktail ring.
Back home, birthday dinner H. made--filet mignon, baked potatoes, Brussels sprouts and Maida Heatter brownies with ice cream, all served on my parents' wedding china. He reported that he bought Scharffen Berger chocolate and Irish butter for the brownie recipe. I was impressed. He really has been watching. ;)
Good night.
TCOY
- Moisturized face, and gold star for good tooth care.
- Full after lunch, so resisted dessert menu and had decaf cappuccino.
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Sounds like "Alice's Birthday, Part 1 and 2." Glad you had a great birthday week-end. P.S. You were NEVER a brat. Don't listen to my sister. Love, Lin
ReplyDeleteLove you Lin. Love alice
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