Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Dry hands and small steaks
Dear Marc, how are you?
I'm fine. We finally moved into our new house. I love it so much, I face the forest each morning for breakfast. I love the view, I say. I can't get enough of it. Anders sits in front of me, looking at me. He repeats my words, in a teasing way. But I love him for the effort.
Winter is still here, though we're approaching May. My hands are so dry, it's silly. This morning, I sat down on the edge of the bed to tenderly stroke the skin of my loved one's face. He was almost sleeping, just coming out of the world of dreams.
"What's that, gravel?" he asked.
Still haven't cooked in the new house. Actually have not cooked since February, when we left the apartment. In India, we ate out. Back home, dad cooked.
He cooked Easter dinner for us yesterday as well. I walked into the kitchen at mom and dad's place, only to find dad seated on the floor, next to the oven. A lovely aroma filled the air, and not a sound was heard except for the appetizing noise of potatoes roasting, a mute sound of steam evaporating from their rosemary covered skins. The oven door was open and dad was lovingly watching a lambsteak he was preparing. It was as if his love cooked the meat. It turned out perfect.
That's why I'll never be a great cook. You'll never find me on the floor with my entire focus on a steak.
Mom's the same way. She'll spend time in the kitchen. But she'll be reading, eating or bending spoons. She's pulling into a Uri Geller phase. Dad tells her anyone can bend spoons.
"I'll be impressed when you can bend a knife!" He urged her the other day.
That whole night, mom sat with a knife in her lap, but the stubborn knife remained straight. Straight as a knife.
I asked mom if she didn't feel the house was empty after we left, but she did not even pretend to miss us.
"It's not exactly empty!" She replied, meaning that our stuff was still scattered all over the place.
"But mom, come on, it's a little empty without us, non?"
"Actually it's a relief."
I can understand her. If guests start to smell after three days, imagine how we must have stunk after almost a month in the basement.
Busy day ahead. Two meetings, then important shopping to do:
Buy hand lotion.
Also must purchase bookshelves, tv and small, cupboardsized chef to cook for us.
What are you buying today?
Consumer greetings from your