Thursday. December 20, 2001

the roses haven't accepted winter and Gayle gave a perfect little bud a chance to shine at dinner for a moment

John the chef's tiny perfect gift to us

you wouldn't have thought of this dish, admit it

"All strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a gift, though small, is precious."

Homer, The Odyssey

I'm still in bed at 8AM. I know that to get anything out of my day I must get up and get coffee and shower and all. So I do.

I fiddle with this and that. Getting the WEB updated, making a brand new list of things to do. Arranging to take my mother shopping for a gift for FFP and for Dad.

Gayle the bookkeeper comes to work and brings us some great gifts. She's made us Christmas goodies and most of the goodies are these bleu cheese crackers that are totally awesome. I stop myself eating the whole thing. She also brought a bottle of Ramspeck Pinot (awesome in case you want to know...we've had it) and a cool little book about wine as an experience. FFP had given her a dinner at Four Seasons for her and her sister, but I gave her some handmade soap from Elgin.

We have Chili's take out (as if I need it with my belly full of savory bleu cheese crackers) and we talk about this and that. FFP and Gayle go back to work but I continue to fool around and then I take my mom to shop, thoughtfully printing out a coupon from email to get myself a free cappuccino at Barnes and Noble.

On the way, I stop at Grady's American Grill. It isn't a place I really like to go eat although I guess the menu isn't that different from Chili's. But I'm not eating. I'm buying gift certificates for my parents. They do like this chain restaurant and it's convenient to their house. I get two $25 gift certificates and they give me two bonus $5 coupons with expiration dates at the end of February. So, I've done my duty and gotten them a gift for my sister's $50 and gotten an extra $10 in value, too.

I go to Mom and Dad's house and get my mom. My dad says, "I'm not going." Right. Like I thought he would. We nab a handicapped place near Restoration Hardware. We walk around there and pick up a few small things. They have these cool Christmas ornaments of the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower. Marked down 30% off. But they'll be half off after Christmas, won't they? And it appears they have plenty.

I don't want Mom to wear out before we get to the bookstore. I pay for our purchases at Restoration Hardware and set her off toddling down the sidewalk with her cane and race to the car and put the package in it. I'm glad I can still move faster than her.

We try to find Fierce Pajamas for Forrest. But it isn't available yet. So I pick a couple of other books, one I wouldn't mind reading myself, too. She picks a book of Texas tales for Dad. We go to the coffee shop and she has a decaf mocha and I have my (free) cappuccino.

She sits and reads some magazines because she is tired. I dash off and pick out a DVD for Forrest and pay. When I return, she has the ommph to walk back to the car.

I rush home, telling them that I don't want to face the traffic I would face if I were working. That's the truth.

FFP proposes taking the bookkeeper and I to dinner. We don't object. He calls around. Jeffrey's says they are very busy. Zoot can take us. We aren't sorry for this choice.

The new front person is Erika's sister Heidi. I think I ate in a restaurant in Nashville where she worked. Neither of us is sure it is so. (I hate my poor memory.)

We take a 1988 Château-Neuf-de-Pape Forrest finds in the cellar. The cork hesitates and theinitial taste is puzzling but it works itself out and is very good. It goes great with a grilled polenta with a crusty mozzarella topping that Gayle and I have and FFP declares his salmon great with it without offering proof. John Maxwell provides an amuse bouche of a thin slice of foie gras and a tiny bit of compote with a delectable sauce.

FFP and I have a special dish with cumin and curry and sweet potatoes and spicy greens served with scallops and shrimp. The kind of dish that works on so many levels and that you, a mere amateur, would not be able to even imagine let alone prepare. Gayle has the filet with mushrooms and baby spinach because we tell her it is the best beef she'll taste this year. We order a Newton Unfiltered Merlot with the entrees, defying convention with our sea food to complement the bright flavors and giving Gayle something to make the beef perfection. It was. FFP wanted an apple and raisin tarte and as luck would have it it came with Guiness ice cream. He had them put the tiny serving of the unusual ice cream on a plate for me. Gayle's creme brulée (eggnog, good idea for the season) was not as perfect because of a over-singed crust but the custard, isolated from the crust tasted like eggnog.

The rest of the evening was pleasant, skipping channels, finishing the three daily papers on the same day. (Yes, I was home, but it was still evening before I got through the papers.)

Gift giving comes into sharp focus this time of year. You watch the glazed eyes of the people (usually men) who go out one time during the season, desperate for a gift for each name. One of these examined Tonettes in Restoration Hardware curiously. (Remember Tonettes?) Then there are those who shop early and late, using clever wiles to get good deals and still surprise everyone. One of these was going through all the stock at a pottery store next door that is going out of business. I'm a third variety. I no longer accept pressure. If I see something someone I know might enjoy I might buy it, Christmas or not. If not, no sweat. If I see something someone I know would definitely enjoy and it's affordable, I buy it. Surprisingly few things call out to me.

I'm sure everyone wants stuff. But even when they reveal it to you, you may not be able to bring yourself to buy it. (My niece's husband, a truly nice guy I'd love to give gifts to, has such weird music on his Amazon wish list that I simply balk and send him money or a gift certificate.) Gift giving is a merging of you and the person you are buying a gift for.

If you do it right, you'll spend time thinking about the person and what they might like that you would be comfortable giving them. This time thinking about others is what counts, not the gayly-wrapped presents. That's my theory anyway. Gone are the days when I gave everyone at work a present. And every cousin's kid. But I still think about people and buy them gifts. And write thank you notes for gifts I receive. Gifts are part of the commerce between people, part of our conversation. Gift curmudgeons miss part of the communication between people. So do gift slaves who believe they have to have one at exactly the right time with the perfect Martha Stewart wrap and to heck with whether it speaks to the relationship between people.

JUST TYPING
A day off.
Slides by.
Some things checked off.
But many unfinished chores remain.
But.
What glorious leisure.