Sunday Usual

Sunday: Kimball, natch, worked the Newsweek crossword (it may be the only reason I get the Ventura Star), then tackled putting away the Christmas decorations. I separated out those I know I shouldn't keep, boxed them, and will donate to one of the thrift stores shortly.
Went to the store for fresh blackberries, frozen strawberries, lettuce, and paprika (I dress my fish with it).  I was putting together my salad when Suzanne rang the bell. Would I like to come over and have some eggnog wine?  Damn straight I would (I didn't say this to Sister Suzanne) and I joined her next door.
Suzanne put out crackers and cheese and poured us both some wine. This was interesting; I've always liked eggnog--I like anything with lots of cream and calories--but had never heard of it as a wine.  S. read on the label that it had originally been concocted in the U.K.  As one might suspect, it's not as thick or heavy as regular eggnog, but it was very good.  We sat chatting for an hour or so, discussing our sisters' problems: Betty's memory and her sister's recent badly injured arm from a fall. I left with thanks, then ate my large salad. Oddly for me, I then felt sleepy--the booze, no doubt--and actually lay down on the couch and dozed until about 3:30.
Heavens, this would never do. I got up, put on my sweater, grabbed my library book (a bio of Gore Vidal), and took off for town. Did the walk, read for a bit, took out a book of Vidal's essays--gawd, he was good--and Transparent Things, by one of my other favorites, V. Nabokov. By the time I walked back to the car, it was getting dark.
I was still full from my middle-of-the-day treat and late lunch, so skipped dinner and just had a bowl of spaghetti squash. I got e-mails from people in Toastmasters, mentioning the meeting tonight. However, I'm going to the Dudley House annual meeting, so won't make the other. Just as well, as Toastmasters is starting to bore me, I'm afraid.