Sunday, December 20, 2009
380: winter visitors
Today we had a lucky visit: Meryl and Shawn came down to do a wee hike with us, one that was disgustingly humbling for me, but neither one, or my husband, or my two dogs, made me feel crumby about being a wimp. I've upped another one of my medications as of last night, doubled it, with all kinds of weirdness coursing through my veins, and my stomach took a little tumble, a front-loading washing machine off-kilter, and Meryl stood there with me, talking about beloved friends in the program, her own sweet pup (who has un-sweet tendencies but is still so loved anyway), Hedgebrook, and family holiday traditions.
After, Meryl made us sandwiches with ingredients from Seward: hearty bread, bean sprouts, sweet peppers, avocado hummus. Ryan and I took on a kale and white bean soup, all of this, by the way, vegan-style, the recipe of which I cannot find online but will share shortly. We had homebrew and New Glarus' Snowshoe, and we discovered the bit of trivia that Shawn has never even tasted a beer (something I probably did when I was pre-elementary school, sipping out of some silver can, while my father ate doo-dads and watched tennis or maybe a Michigan-Ohio football game, rocking back and forth and cheering), which is truly unique (could we ever brew a beer worthy of that break-through? probably not, and I really respect that).
Apologies for these quiet pictures: standing at the side of the path, cross country skiers swooping beside us, I was glad to have company as I tried to keep myself tied to the earth, and that kind of pause allows for a series of small observations. Most of the time, I was concentrated on my desperate attempt at not toppling to one side, my temperatures swooning (there was one moment I shed scarf, hat, mittens, jacket, scooped snow into my mouth, and not long after, I felt the chill of wet snaking up my pants), the ridiculousness of these medical efforts on display. I am pleased I kept all manner of lunch down today, which is a terribly sad accomplishment, but the biggest comfort is always spending time with people I care about--and husband, Meryl, and Shawn, are all such very good people. I don't mind the deep-winter (oh, solstice is tomorrow?) wonkiness sometimes.
Tomorrow: book club with a series of still more favorite people (we read). A trip to the post office for what will be belated holiday gifts for many. Packing up for our Christmas trip, one that will be chaotic with two small children and four big dogs (oh, but with the best kind of chaos). Thinking of so many of you who fill my heart up to the tippity-top, the tolerant and all, my love to everyone this holiday season, and more monthly celebrations to come.