 What's in This Drink? |
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It's Sunday afternoon and I'm sitting here with my hair and my body wrapped in towels and somehow not freezing my ass off. The dogs are in the backyard barking in the sunshine, and the cats are crawling all over my newly cleaned bathroom counter. Girlfriends are coming over tonight. I've been cleaning and straightening and making spinach dip and chocolate chip cookies and butterscotch brownies to eat with vanilla ice cream for dessert. They're bringing the main dish and the sides and the salad and the bread. I've made a holiday songs playlist and right now "Breath of Heaven" is playing, and it's a gorgeous song. The list also has Johnny Mathis, a Christmas staple at our house growing up, and Harry Connick, Jr., Nat King Cole, Ella Fitzgerald, Sting's "Angel Gabriel," and some John Rutter / Cambridge Singers collaborations. I love choral Christmas music. It reminds me of high school choir. I also have "Once Upon a December" from Anastasia. It's a good list. No list is complete with "Ding Dong Merrily on High" or "Baby, It's Cold Outside." I mowed the front lawn earlier and leaves blew everywhere, in my ears and up my nose. Earlier Zuko ate three raw cookies right off the cookie sheet, and he didn't even barf. I watched most of the game last night with my mom and sister and we noted how obvious it was that the commentators had no faith in our team and how completely they were won over by the end. I cannot believe I was lying in bed last night watching ESPN and listening to the commentators and their dumb jokes and analysis. It was bizarre. I couldn't help but think of Sports Night. (Minor quibble with my beloved show -- Dan and Casey constantly used stupid puns and plays on words in their newscasts, and such a huge deal was made that Sally wrote puns for Casey, as if that were so unheard of. Whatever. I guess any excuse concocted to dislike Sally should be alright by me.) It looks like we're going to the national championship. We won't find out for sure for about an hour, but you can basically hear shrieking up and down the streets of this city right now. I'm all for the morale boost while never remaining unaware of how ridiculous it all is. If my dad can score a ticket for me, I'd really like to go to the big game. If we actually win, the roof of the Super Dome might blow right off, and I'm sure the fans will careen through New Orleans in a drunken frenzy of a stampede the likes of which has never before been seen. Good times. It know it makes my dad and brothers and sister and even mom so happy that I can't help but be happy, too. 
© Copyright 2003 elb |
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