We went back to visit the surgeon because G's pain level had become rather worrisome. Fortunately he doesn't have a clot or deep vein thrombosis, but he did come away with some new painkillers. (Hello, Sister Morphine.) And I came away with several treats from the hospital snack shop. What with the crutches, the pillows, the xrays and G's backpack, I couldn't bring the camera with me, but later I snapped some photos of my finds on the tiny terrace off our room. For the most part, we've been flat on our backs (healing is a team sport), watching bad movies and the occasional itunes download (loving The Killing--is AMC the new HBO?!), and, yes, eating crackers in bed. Fortunately, they've been some quality Indonesian crackers, a national specialty that puts Ritz to shame.
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In the movie of my life, I'm sitting on the couch in front of the fire watching a movie. I have done this, plus or minus the fireplace—and assorted family members—ever since I can remember. I definitely associate holiday time with watching movies and eating See's. So I thought I might take this opportunity to create a list for you of movies that would make great viewing during all the downtime you'll hopefully be having in the next few weeks. Of course I'm assuming you'll also be doing the requisite skiing and snowshoeing to offset all that lounging and the inevitable onslaught of calories. We've got a light snow cover here and I'm praying for more. I may even learn to ice skate this year! (I am a horrible, knock-kneed skater but G has promised to school me.) Perhaps you feel I've been shirking my duties and not posting enough holiday-relevant recipes. You're not wrong. Blogging has taken a bit of a back seat to the insanity of shopping and wrapping and schlepping. But it's not that we haven't been eating well. Last night there was a delicious salad of fresh Tuscan kale with roasted delicata squash, pecorino and fresh pomegranate.
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I've had some positive feedback on my round-ups of ingredients, so here's a new one for you. This time it's vinegar, in some of its many permutations. As children, my sisters and I called each other "Vinegar Pig." This originated from our love of drinking glugs of white vinegar straight from the bottle while dyeing Easter eggs. I've never been one to shy away from sour pickles or throat-scratchingly tart salad dressings, and I'm still known to take a swig from the bottle of balsamic, but I think by now I've learned how to employ vinegar to slightly more subtle effect.
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