Due to the weather, our small dinner party was cancelled, and S.O. and I dined in isolated splendor at the long table with the Christmas cloth and the red napkins, and the little green vases with red and white chyrsanthemums and a few sprigs of cat-chewed baby's breath.
What is is about cats and baby's breath? They go absolutely apeshit.
I took my fruit cake cookies around to the neighbors. The recipe made 9 dozen. Hey, they're good, too. No icky yellow or green weird stuff, but rather my own candied orange peel. How cool is that?
Of course the baked goods disappear rather rapidly. I bake until the New Year, so it matters not if we eat stuff. What else is it for?
The menu was cannolli shells stuffed with spinach, chicken and cheese and baked in a light cream sauce, cherry tomatoes provencal, iceberg salad with special fancy homemade dressing, cheese straws for an appetizer, and then of course, all the desserts, now only two, including cheese cake. What is it with me and cheese? Life would be diminished without cheese.
Of course too busy to write this week. Next week will be worse. The tree is still undecorated and listing to port. The snow, however, is lovely.