January 03, 2008


I do not want Christmas break to be over--I still have not finished addressing the New Years cards I made on 12/14. I read that in France, people exchange cards for the holidays well towards the end of January. As expression of my desire for a more French system--primarily socialised medicine--I am sending my cards the French way.

Plus the kitchen is still not clean. I got it almost all the way clean after the New Years meal for ten. I cooked saffron rice, butter beans with mint, gingerbread cake with poached apricots in a vanilla reduction, a salad with oranges and fennel in rosewater, naan, and vegetarian corn dogs with "special sauce". Miles brought a butternut squash and Gruyere casserole, Ben made green beans. It was too much and so I had more people over for dinner last night otherwise I'd be eating this rice every day until Arbor Day. Now everything is dirty again, but I can't stop reading long enough to get hand with the mop.

The NYE meal was lovely and candlelit; I think everyone was in a mood, or half sick, utterly allergic, stressing, spiritually fatigued, hungover and near barfing, unaqquainted with others, or internally miserable over non-dinner related happenings. Megan came over today and she said the benefit was that everyone seemed to be having a time of it, so at least no one was left out--it was a fellowship of the weirded out.

After dinner, the plan was we were to burn lists, in the lot next door, of what we wanted to leave in 2007 and not bring with into the new year. I had asked people to bring their lists prepared, but only Megan did. So as a result, everyone sat down with their afterdinner coffee and pondered on of all the bad shit, unwanted feelings and past that was living in the present. Lists were scribbled, boots tugged back on and out we went.

We put our lists in the jar and Matt rolled his like a wick. The wind kept blowing the lighter out. The notes were folded too tight to light. Matts note smoldered. It snowed hard and the wind blew and meanwhile, the physics of burning stuff in a jar was against us and we went through a whole pack of matches. Everyone got nervous and joked about the bad omen. Ben suggested we take them inside and burn them in the bath tub, but by the time we got up there, the jar was smoking full of smoldering notes and so I held it out the bathroom window while we tried to decide what would become of the notes in their fiery state. It smelled terrible and so it was elected to drown them. Instead, I accidentally turned the shower on myself. The house stank like a campfire. The notes met a watery grave and are resting in peace, dissolving the mason jar on the backporch. Next year, we will drink them.

Posted by Jessica at January 3, 2008 08:32 PM | TrackBack