Tom and I went to Sacramento for another splendid Christmas at the home of his brother and sister-in-law, Paul and Eva. Others attending were Steve and Julie, Dan, Chris, Sarah and Josh, Ann and Mac, and Dave Clark. We enjoyed each others’ company and ate and drank, and opened the mountain of gifts piled around the Christmas tree.
I got two nifty little LED lights from Paul, who has a knack in the area of gadgets—one of the lights looks like a little spark plug—and Hammett got, from Ann, a very cute duck toy very similar to one Thelonious had that I called “The Duckter.”
Of course, I ate way too much. I always vow to go easy on the appetizers and save room for dinner. This time I did not actually overindulge on appetizers, I think for the first time ever, but the pre-dinner, which comes between the appetizers and the actual dinner, was my downfall. In vain did my stomach shriek up to me, “I’m full, I tell you!”
At dessert time—all was lost by then, so why not?—I said that I would like a large piece of apple pie, a generous amount of ice cream, and a bit of the apple crisp. Josh, Sarah’s boyfriend, followed my excellent example, saying something like, “Same as Linda.”
Tom’s brother Steve was wearing Keen sandals like mine, in a different color. I asked, “Are you copying me?” He answered, flatteringly, “I do a lot of things to be more like you.”
Tom and I spent that night at Steve and Julie’s, and went back to Paul and Eva’s for breakfast and stockings. Santa and all of his helpers were extremely generous, as always.
Then Steve and Julie and Tom and I had a nice afternoon at Ann and Mac’s, including lunch and communion with Sophie. Tom and I took the train home later that day. I got the train time wrong, plus it was running late, so we had a lengthy period on the chilly train platform to reflect on the spirit of the season.
The next evening, Chris came to town and he and Tom and I had dinner at Firecracker, a Chinese restaurant near 21st and Valencia. The food was fine, maybe a tad overpriced. However, the service was bad enough that I probably won’t go back there. After dinner, we saw Walk Hard, the biopic spoof starring John C. Reilly. I got more of a kick out of Will Ferrell in Blades of Glory, which I’ll see again one of these days, courtesy of Netflix. In any event, it’s always great to spend time with Chris.
When I returned to work after Christmas, my father’s gifts were waiting; they had arrived the day before Christmas, when I wasn’t at work. He gave me a citrus squeezer, a nut chopper, and a DMT diamond knife sharpener with a choice of two surfaces. I have been using a DMT diamond steel per my father’s recommendation, and like it a lot.
I had previously received a nut chopper from my father, so I asked him if he liked the new one better. He said he likes the old one because it’s easy to clean, but that he does not, in fact, chop nuts with it; he prefers the newer one for that. He said to ask my mother what she uses the old chopper to chop.
I still haven’t found out, but my mother did agree in regard to the maintenance. She said, “It is uncommonly easy to clean, that vertical chopper. I just leave it on the counter … ” (Meaning that someone else cleans it.)
I tried the new sharpener and it is effective. Unfortunately, in my initial experimentation, I put several light scratches across the flat side of the blade, after which I had a good cry: That knife is my baby! No one but me is allowed to touch it. (Since I live alone, I have to call people who live elsewhere and say, “By the way, you’re not allowed to touch my Wusthof.”) It was also a gift from my father, as are most of my best kitchen tools.
Fortunately, Jivano, the web-proclaimed best knife sharpener in San Francisco is minutes from my front door, so I’m going to take it over to him and see if he can smooth it out. If not, I’ll learn to love it as it is.
You used to have to lurk around Jivano’s tiny shop on 18th St. hoping he might appear, but now you can email him.
Somewhere along in here, Tom and I saw No Country for Old Men, which we both loved. It’s extremely violent, but it’s not gratuitous violence—every bit of it is necessary. It’s also perfectly cast and the dialogue is pleasing. It’s turned me into a Josh Brolin fan. I had seen a review that said most of the violence is off-screen. Hardly.
The Friday right after Christmas, I watched La Vie en Rose on DVD, about French singer Edith Piaf. She was quite the carouser. I enjoyed the film.
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