When I got to my parents' town, I went to the grocery store to get a few things upon which my survival depends. One such set of things were intended to be cooked one night for dinner -- "one night," mind you, not "Christmas night" necessarily. But with meal schedules unfolding as they did, that meal turned out to be our Christmas dinner.
Had I known in advance that cooking Christmas dinner would turn out to be my responsibility, I'd have gone with a menu far more glamorous than breaded pork chops, baked potatoes and Brussels sprouts. I can do up a holiday meal quite nicely when I want to, as I've done when I've hosted Christmas dinner in the past. But the holiday has gotten lower and lower key over the years, so there you have it. It was tasty, and we are fortunate to have hot food to eat on Christmas.
Meanwhile, I've nearly finished Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, which had a promising first chapter but has turned out to be a rather dull hodgepodge of either unrelated or contradictory stories. I have one more chapter to go. We also watched one of the neorealsitic Italian movies on my list, Rome Open City, which was informative, well-acted and depressing, since it was about Nazis and death and other depressing things. Watched The Queen last night. Pizza is on its way. I dunno -- I kind of love vacationing at my parents' place, frankly. It's almost too relaxing.
I hear they're supposed to have 16" of snow up in New Haven. Ha!
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