Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Bringing in the New Year with beet soup and play money
This was hands down my favorite transition into a New Year, ever.
Maybe it's because I've finally matured, I am a fresh 47 now, or maybe it's because Esther has been so sick with the flu the thought of going out anywhere further than the edge of the yard was completely out of the question, but I had none of the usual hype-fueled angst regarding our New Year's plans or lack thereof.
And the day unfurled perfectly and that ribbon of perfection just kept rolling into the evening and I got a ski in just as it was getting dark and while I was schussing through the twilight, breathing the crisp air deep into my lungs, I smugly considered how impressed Ian would be by the beef borscht he would find in the crock pot when he got home from work.
Then I remembered we had one stray bottle of champagne and two stray bottles of Guinness in the fridge and those two things together would add up to enough Black Velvet for Ian and I to enjoy with our soup.
And that's what we did. We ate borscht and bread and drank Black velvets, and grape juice. Then adjourned to the living room, which is just feet away from the dinner table and christened Esther's new Monopoly board game by playing a rousing round in which Isla was clearly the big money player but didn't believe it because she still doesn't quite get how one $500 bill is worth more than four twenties and two fifties and one $100 bill.
Then we put the girls to bed at nine, after Isla insisted on reading several pages of Frog and Toad are Friends out loud to me, and we met each other back downstairs and shared the big chair-- just wide enough to accommodate one pair of snake hips and one pair of woman hips--and stared catatonically into the fire until we dozed off.