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T. started throwing up yesterday evening and continued through this afternoon so there will be no school for him on Monday.
The horse was canceled due to icy footing; when I told A. on Saturday night, she said, “So, track?” And I was like, “Sure!” Altho I hadn’t thought of that on my own at all. So we went to track, and she had a good time, but there didn’t seem to be quite as many volunteers so I wound up shepherding her through drills and relay which meant non-running, already a little sore from yesterday’s martial arts lesson me did more running on a hard surface (I would ordinarily only run at all on a treadmill) than I had in perhaps forever. Ack. R. got A. lunch at McDonald’s because she was having trouble deciding among a variety of options. I had a blueberry pancake for lunch. We also ate more of yesterday’s chocolate cake (mix cake with prepared frosting — used up the open jar in the fridge after R. turned it light pink).
After lunch, I just was tired and sore, so I just got into bed. I played a game for a while, but mostly I just lay there and didn’t do much of anything. A. came up after a while and joined me, and then I had a long text chat with High Priestess which was nice.
Today’s drink was yesterday’s drink, only with the Crema by del maguey instead of the vodka (everything else the same). Really, really good that way. R. liked it even better than yesterday’s and it is the same lovely purple / pink rosy color. Tomorrow will be the crema version but no simple syrup, no crushed ice and served in an up glass to see if it still works correctly as an up drink as well as a rocks drink.
When I had dinner, I had left my devices upstairs, so I asked R. for the cocktail books that we keep in the bar. _Cocktail Genius_ is mine — I bought it at Chapters on our honeymoon in 2004. And it is delightfully awful, a real blast from the past. I’m going to try to put together something (probably NOT just a blog post) about how cocktail generations are about the same length as pop music generations, and, much like pop music, there are simultaneously elements of bringing back something from the more distant past and condemning one’s immediate predecessors for Doing It Wrong.
I’m also working on a theory that a really good cocktail should be forgiving of a wide variety of mixing styles, a wide variety of glasses, and should have a defined rocks version and a defined up version. Where Really Good is actually a massive understatement. The idea isn’t to make something that people love love love, but rather to make something that will survive the inevitable changes in fashion because it tolerates modification well and is still tasty. You know. Like pancakes.
The horse was canceled due to icy footing; when I told A. on Saturday night, she said, “So, track?” And I was like, “Sure!” Altho I hadn’t thought of that on my own at all. So we went to track, and she had a good time, but there didn’t seem to be quite as many volunteers so I wound up shepherding her through drills and relay which meant non-running, already a little sore from yesterday’s martial arts lesson me did more running on a hard surface (I would ordinarily only run at all on a treadmill) than I had in perhaps forever. Ack. R. got A. lunch at McDonald’s because she was having trouble deciding among a variety of options. I had a blueberry pancake for lunch. We also ate more of yesterday’s chocolate cake (mix cake with prepared frosting — used up the open jar in the fridge after R. turned it light pink).
After lunch, I just was tired and sore, so I just got into bed. I played a game for a while, but mostly I just lay there and didn’t do much of anything. A. came up after a while and joined me, and then I had a long text chat with High Priestess which was nice.
Today’s drink was yesterday’s drink, only with the Crema by del maguey instead of the vodka (everything else the same). Really, really good that way. R. liked it even better than yesterday’s and it is the same lovely purple / pink rosy color. Tomorrow will be the crema version but no simple syrup, no crushed ice and served in an up glass to see if it still works correctly as an up drink as well as a rocks drink.
When I had dinner, I had left my devices upstairs, so I asked R. for the cocktail books that we keep in the bar. _Cocktail Genius_ is mine — I bought it at Chapters on our honeymoon in 2004. And it is delightfully awful, a real blast from the past. I’m going to try to put together something (probably NOT just a blog post) about how cocktail generations are about the same length as pop music generations, and, much like pop music, there are simultaneously elements of bringing back something from the more distant past and condemning one’s immediate predecessors for Doing It Wrong.
I’m also working on a theory that a really good cocktail should be forgiving of a wide variety of mixing styles, a wide variety of glasses, and should have a defined rocks version and a defined up version. Where Really Good is actually a massive understatement. The idea isn’t to make something that people love love love, but rather to make something that will survive the inevitable changes in fashion because it tolerates modification well and is still tasty. You know. Like pancakes.