Posted tagged ‘mimosas’

“Santa Claus is anyone who loves another and seeks to make them happy; who gives himself by thought or word or deed in every gift that he bestows.”

December 10, 2015

Fern, Gracie and I slept in this morning. It was 10:30 before we dragged ourselves out of bed. After two papers and two cups of coffee I am awake. Notice I didn’t say alert. Fern and Gracie are having their morning naps.  They are exhausted. I have no idea why.

I have a to do list today. The wrapping might just get done so I can send the packages to Colorado. I need animal food so Agway is on the list, and I need a bit of people food as my larder is empty. I really want to get outside as it is warm and the sun is beginning to appear. It isn’t winter despite the date. Today is already 54˚.

When I was a kid, Santa never wrapped presents. He left them under the tree in a pile for each of us. My pile was aways the first one on the left. The only wrapped presents under the tree to be opened on Christmas Eve were the pajamas and slippers. The tags were signed from mom and dad.

When I was an adult, my mother wrapped every gift and signed the cards From Santa. Those gifts were left around the tree on Christmas Eve just as they had been when I was kid. My spot was next to the chair and the overflow was in front of the fireplace screen, first pile on the left. Wrapped gifts made for excitement and surprise as if we were kids again. I remember picking up a package, feeling around and shaking it so I could guess what it was.

I don’t remember having breakfast on Christmas morning when I was a kid. I suspect we were too involved with our gifts so it was catch as catch can. Our adult Christmas breakfasts were wonderful. We all sipped mimosas as we opened gifts. The breakfast, a casserole made the evening before as per the directions, was cooking in the oven so we could give all our attention to the pile of gifts.

I wrap everything, even the small gifts. It takes a lot of time, but I figure I’m keeping the spirit and the excitement alive.

“I believe in red meat. I’ve often said: red meat and gin.”

September 29, 2015

It seems I get later and later but for good reasons. This morning it was a long library board meeting to choose officers. The length of the meeting had little to do with the election of unopposed officers. No, it was mimosas and pastries and conversation which kept us late.

I’m running out of adjectives to describe this gorgeous weather. It is in the mid-70’s and sunny with a breeze strong enough to swing the chimes. Tomorrow they’ll be downpours and over 3 inches of rain according to the weatherman. Not a single person is complaining. We need the rain, and we have had our share, more than our share, of beautiful fall days.

Where I grew up, we called it tonic. Down here they call it soda. By either name, we seldom had any in the house when I was a kid, ginger ale maybe for an occasional highball, my parents’ favorite drink when I was young, but nothing else. We drank milk, a combination of white milk and chocolate milk, both delivered by the milkman. My mother used to drink Tab until Diet Coke came along. My father was always a milk drinker. He loved a cold glass of milk with his Hydrox cookies or his Pilot crackers topped with butter. He’d be devastated now as both his favorites are no longer made. He’d probably start eating Saltines but never Oreos, maybe Newman-O’s which remind me of Hydrox. My dad was most particular about his snacks.

We called my mother the seagull because of what she ate. Leftovers were her favorite breakfast, and sometimes she ate them cold in a sandwich, including hot dogs cut in half and down the middle. She’d rummage in the fridge, pullout the covered dishes and build herself a sandwich. Cucumbers were a favorite topping. She was also a mayonnaise fan far more than a mustard fan. My mother liberally applied the condiment. Even with toast the butter was slathered. Grilled cheese, according to her, was best at its messiest.

I eat all sorts of foods and will try almost anything when I’m traveling. I think that’s the seagull in me.

“you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.”

August 19, 2014

This morning was the library board’s annual brunch. I always bring the champagne for mimosas and serve as the bartender. Two members of the board are 90, and they love their mimosas. It was a great morning with sunny, lovely weather.

It was cold last night. The house was only 59˚ earlier this morning. When I opened the doors, the sun flooded the house. Fern ran right to the rug and sprawled in the sun. I wanted to join her. The whole week will have similar weather: 70’s during the day and low 60’s at night. I think this is perfect weather.

My dance card is filled or at least has something for every day this week. Despite all the time I have, I get miserly about giving it away. A day or two here or there is fine but not something to do every day. I’ll be exhausted. I’m thinking afternoon naps. Company is welcomed as that is unusual, but I seldom get overnight guests. That’s too bad as I am a wonderful hostess.

A while back I played songs popular when you all were born. It was fun. Now I have another brilliant idea. I am inviting each of you to be a guest writer for Coffee. Write what you want and send it, and I’ll post one each day, find a picture and look for music to go along with your posting unless your own music choice. This idea has been whirling around in my head for a while. I know the comment spot often becomes the forum, and I love that you do that, talk to each other, and those conversations have led me to this. You know each other pretty well by now, and you know Coffee so write away! Have some fun!