Oh turkey coma, oh suffering fatness

Dinner at Bistro Maison was delightful! Our reservations were for two so we could finish and DH and I could start the drive back home before total darkness overwhelmed us. Well, at least we got started on the way. Everyone else had turkey. I had wild Chinook salmon with chantarelles. Fish and mushrooms? What more could I ask for? Maybe poached pears for dessert? Maybe an appetizer of shrimp simmered in pernod? Perhaps a simple salad of mixed greens (local weeds) with candided walnuts and pickled beets? Oh my gracious it was good!! The sun was setting as we left the restaurant, and the moon was rising in the east ahead of us. DH is such a hero that he resisted the urge to curl up and nap, and manfully drove us safely home. An hour long drive from C&J's who live a further 30 minutes from the restaurant. DH is a trooper!!

And J is a sweetie as well. He is a computer wizard who taught my new laptop how to find the internet. Poor C. never gets to see her husband's eyes because his job requires him to spend just about every waking hour facing a computer. She was looking forward to enjoying his company when we arrived, and what's the first thing I did but hand him my new laptop and say, "Make blog go?" Luckily, he is so good at his job that it took him only half an hour, and that because the air card is a slow loader.

So now I am blogging from the new laptop. I love it. It's tickety, tappety, shiney and (whispers) it seems to work.

Here is our beloved big Ben explaining to DH just how big the dustbunny that got away actually was. Pepper, as you can see by her shiney eyes, is reserving judgement.

It takes forever to load photos, but if I'm patient, I can get some up.

This morning, DH and I virtuously rolled out at seven AM to go do our mall walk and then hot-tub. Sure, we knew there would be some early sales. I guess some places even opened at four AM! But really, how many sharks could there be involved in this shopping frenzy? We're idiots, aren't we? I have never seen the parking lot so full. It was seven in the morning, and we had to park clear out on the far end of hell's half acre. Geeze, we walked a third of a mile in just fighting our way in from the parking lot. Have you ever seen that video game called "Frogger" where the animated frog tries to make it across the freeway? I felt a lot like that frog. People were who saw even a hint of a brake light indicating someone might be pulling out would just floor it to try to get to the space before anyone else stole it, and God help anyone on foot! The mall itself was packed, all the stores were open and that effing little drummerboy was pahrumppapumpumming on the loudspeakers. At the food court, there were men and boys, casualties of the first wave no doubt, heads down on their arms, surrounded by piles of packages, while women and girls kept coming and going in a steady stream, bringing more treasures, collecting more cash, and dashing off for another attack. ("And when we get to Sears, I'll go stand in line right away while you pick up those towels that are on sale and then swing by the girls' section and find something for your cousin Pat. Then you stand in line and I'll go to the tool department to get that cordless drill for your father. After that, you check out and I'll see if auntie Mim is done at Penney's . . .")

So we did one lap (DH enjoys this sort of thing. I start to suffer sensory overload. The noise, the lights and color, the jostling, and the jarring cacaphony of strong perfumes . . EEEEK! I was more than ready for the hot tub!!

Somehow, this had whetted DH's taste for adventure, so for lunch, we went to a new dim sum restaurant. We were just about the only round-eyes in there. We were standing and waiting to be seated, and three young women who didn't speak English stood and offered me (grey-haired old woman that I am) their seat. Their three narrow little butts fit on to ONE comfy chair seat. They were squeezed together, but they could get out without assistance, so it couldn't have been that tight a fit. I couldn't argue with them, so I took the seat. With bitter pangs of envy for them being so young and slim and dressed so hot! One had three-inch stilletto heeles on her over-the-knee black leather boots. Another was wearing a pair of jeans so low cut - well, that sliver of flesh between the bottom of her sweater and the top of her pants could have been kept warm by the furtive glances of every young male in the area. The third was wearing a pink and orange horizontally striped babydoll dress and was cute enough to pull it off.

The restaurant uniforms were interesting. The ladies running the dim sum carts wore lavendar tops with mandarin collars and elbow length sleeves, alone with black knee-length straight skirts, black tights, flata shoes, and little lavendar caps. The hostesses wore the same skirts and tops, but flesh-colored hose, no caps, and a one-inch heel. The manager progressed beyond the lavendar top and graduated to a white shirt and black vest.

The service was fast, fast, fast! The food was tasty, but completely a mystery. The ladies running the carts, bringing their dishes of miscellaneous bites around and around, spoke very little english. I recognized hum bao, so we got a plate of those. And there were some lovely translucent dumplings with shrimp in them showing through the wonton wrapper, so we got those. And then, well . . . DH doesn't care much for fish. Shrimp maybe if it's nice and fresh. We got a plate of ummm, I'm still not sure. It looked like rigatoni in tomatoe sauce. It tasted like oysters with garlic. And the texture was very much like gnocci. I got to eat all of that, and rather liked it, but still wonder what it was. Then we got a beef dumpling. Again with the shiney, gultinous, almost transparent wonton skin wrapped around the dark savory filling. Yes, it was beef. It was a sort of minced and seasoned and pureed sausage. the texture thre DH completely. It was like beef and onion and garlic and five-spice flavored oatmeal. Amazingly enough, I was stuffed after only four dishes. And DH was ready to go, so we called it good and motated home.

And last, but surely not least, Knitting content!

Behold a six-fingered glove. Thanks to Amy Lane for the yarn!!