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It's Wednesday again
Mar. 5th, 2003 06:27 pmThe sky, when I first thought of starting this entry, was striped with pale peach and blue-gray and yellow and dark gray. The tree branches are bristlier with the coming leaves every day.
Eric wanted to come help me cook dinner yesterday evening, so I poked about in the refrigerator and decided that, with Lydy's permission in the matter of raiding her salad supplies, we could have pasta with soy crumbles, fresh herb and olive oil scones, steamed snow peas, and salad. I mixed all the wet ingredients for the scones together, and all the dry ingredients, so I wouldn't have to fiddle around with them later. I was sauteeing the onions for the sauce when David came up and suggested red wine. There wasn't any upstairs, so he went down to the basement and came up with several crusty bottles and one that would do for today. I wondered if the meal was worth the good wine, and he told me that having a sweetie to dinner was a special occasion, and we had some good stuff that really needed to be used up.
Eric called ruefully at six to say he would get on a bus as soon as he could. I left the salad vegetables for him, and also left the final seasoning of the spaghetti sauce for him, since he'd commented, not at all complainingly, on how I always did the spices, and I thought he might like to try it.
I eventually got the snow peas prepared and, given the time and the absence of any Erics, started on the salad. He called again, sounding both weary and chagrined, and said he had kept missing busses but should be able to arrive by nine. I told him I'd probably feed everybody else sooner, but there would be food for him.
David and Lydy and I sat down to dinner at around seven forty-five, and had a fine time talking about this and that. They threatened to drink all the wine, but they didn't. Eric arrived just about at nine, and I fed him. Lydy did a partial change of the water in the fish tank in the dining room, and we got to see the total disappearance of all fish and their gradual wary reappearance. I explained why Westley the blood parrot was called the Dread Parrot Roberts, but Eric said he would be better able to remember the fish's name if he thought of him as the founder of Methodism.
I left David and Eric peacefully talking shop in the kitchen and went up and gave Raphael a back rub and a bit of conversation; then I collected my things, smooched David, and headed off to the bus stop, where I found Eric, who was still having a bad bus day. We got to ride together and talk about Liavek, which was pleasant.
Toliman was very stretchable when we got to Eric's. Oh dear, my own orange cat is yelling at me, so I had better go find the toy on a stick. More tremendously important and riveting revelations later. Or not.
Pamela
Eric wanted to come help me cook dinner yesterday evening, so I poked about in the refrigerator and decided that, with Lydy's permission in the matter of raiding her salad supplies, we could have pasta with soy crumbles, fresh herb and olive oil scones, steamed snow peas, and salad. I mixed all the wet ingredients for the scones together, and all the dry ingredients, so I wouldn't have to fiddle around with them later. I was sauteeing the onions for the sauce when David came up and suggested red wine. There wasn't any upstairs, so he went down to the basement and came up with several crusty bottles and one that would do for today. I wondered if the meal was worth the good wine, and he told me that having a sweetie to dinner was a special occasion, and we had some good stuff that really needed to be used up.
Eric called ruefully at six to say he would get on a bus as soon as he could. I left the salad vegetables for him, and also left the final seasoning of the spaghetti sauce for him, since he'd commented, not at all complainingly, on how I always did the spices, and I thought he might like to try it.
I eventually got the snow peas prepared and, given the time and the absence of any Erics, started on the salad. He called again, sounding both weary and chagrined, and said he had kept missing busses but should be able to arrive by nine. I told him I'd probably feed everybody else sooner, but there would be food for him.
David and Lydy and I sat down to dinner at around seven forty-five, and had a fine time talking about this and that. They threatened to drink all the wine, but they didn't. Eric arrived just about at nine, and I fed him. Lydy did a partial change of the water in the fish tank in the dining room, and we got to see the total disappearance of all fish and their gradual wary reappearance. I explained why Westley the blood parrot was called the Dread Parrot Roberts, but Eric said he would be better able to remember the fish's name if he thought of him as the founder of Methodism.
I left David and Eric peacefully talking shop in the kitchen and went up and gave Raphael a back rub and a bit of conversation; then I collected my things, smooched David, and headed off to the bus stop, where I found Eric, who was still having a bad bus day. We got to ride together and talk about Liavek, which was pleasant.
Toliman was very stretchable when we got to Eric's. Oh dear, my own orange cat is yelling at me, so I had better go find the toy on a stick. More tremendously important and riveting revelations later. Or not.
Pamela
