1) Again I awoke earlier than expected, after a dream involving an old enemy, and again I realized why it’s not a good idea to scroll social media before writing my morning pages, as I got drawn into a (neutral) exchanges of messages with a different old enemy. These things do little to clarify one’s thoughts.
2) I ended up reading the news for a couple hours — I ended up avoiding the news the last few days — and then settling down to write more Christmas cards, with Alastair Sim as Scrooge to keep me company. Almost all my inventory of Christmas and New Year’s cards are now gone! And many more addresses left on my list. Oopsie, should have prepared.
2a) That said, as I scanned down my list, I had to ask “Who on earth are these people?” Maybe it’s just the pandemic, but I have not heard directly from a lot of people in a very long time. Is this the case with you?
3) Back to Centre Street to run more errands: post office, Chi Chi Foo Foo Upscale Market for eggs (after discovering a shortage in my kitchen), dry cleaners (she is so nice!), and then the local bookstore to pick up an order and to buy more holiday cards.
3a) The staff at this store are really doing all they can to prevent COVID spread. Aside from big plexiglass shields by the register, they also have a low wire barrier by the door to keep customers from barging in and out on their own, and they insist on everyone using hand sanitizer on entering. As luck would have it today, everyone in the store wanted to shop in the same ~36 square feet, which included the entrance, the registers, and — important for me! — the holiday card display. It felt . . . a little chaotic, which is not really unusual for shopping on Christmas Eve.
3b) What’s interesting about progressive bookstores is that there are so many titles that prompt “I ought to read that” and not “I want to read that.” There’s a significant difference.
4) Murder, as I’ve pointed out so often, is very relaxing at times of stress. So I picked up Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man earlier this week (after an ugly online exchange) and almost finished it this afternoon. The story takes place over Christmas, 1932, in New York, but Christmas is only a minor piece of the backdrop to the action — which of course is detecting and excessive drinking. As much as I love the original Myrna Loy/William Powell film, and as opposed as I generally am to remaking the classics, The Thin Man is due for an update that doesn’t leave out any of the seamy side of New York at the time, or of the story. Really, Nick seems to have slept with most of the women in the story, and Hammett also paints a vivid picture of Nick and Nora’s New York social circle that could be brought out more. Not to mention the gritty nature of some of the speakeasies they hang out in.
5) This being National Eggnog Day, of course I was going to attempt Granny’s eggnog again, now that Cousin Mary has sent it to me. This year it was still quite tasty, but the textures didn’t work out. I should probably make just one serving at a time — but that’s a lot of work to fill a small glass.
6) And this being a Friday, the besties and I ended up having a Friday Facetime, but a little later than usual. Someone made the point that we hadn’t been together in person as a group since Thanksgiving, 2020, and it does underline the toll of the pandemic.
7) Christmas Eve — I am not consumed with the past, but eager Christmas dinner tomorrow at Craig’s. All my life I’ve spent Christmas with my family or on my own, never outside the family — Easter and Thanksgiving yes, many times, but not Christmas. And while I have been snug as a bug these two years since Mother died, I am happy to be doing something different tomorrow.
7a) But family are present in my thoughts. Tonight Laura texted me photos of her children, the Nephews and Niece Who Must Not Be Tagged, and Little Layla, barely two months old, happily gathered together. And on this night in 1954 a surprise Christmas gift in the living room on Kirkman Street revealed to my father’s family that he and Mother were engaged, at which there was much rejoicing.
8) I wish you joy this Christmas, but mostly I wish you health and safety. I keep telling myself that the 1918 pandemic ended at some point, but . . . when will this burn itself out?