It’s a glorious sunny day outside and literally, freezing cold. The puddle on the patio is icy. This is the part of winter where you get a little nutty here, in a different way than the days of endless rain. Last week we had a taste of spring, including flowers, and now it’s supposed to snow tomorrow. I am eating bloody toast because the air’s so dry my lip keeps splitting.
Our trip to Portland this weekend was fantastic. We stayed with my companion’s father, who lives in a beautiful old house that has separate areas that used to be the servants’ domains. I like old houses like this, with the old, extravagant use of wood and gorgeous light fixtures, but I’m not crazy about the lack of integration between the domestic and leisure areas. I prefer an open, beautiful kitchen to a closed-off one with a makeover that was obviously meant to be shut off from the dining room. Because of the location of the butler’s pantry and all the doors, you can tell that food was just supposed to magically appear.
We had a small dinner party there on Saturday night, with my companion’s brother and his wife, and some old friends. The house’s design had an interesting effect on the flow of our small party. During parties at modern houses, people usually get stacked up in the kitchen. I decided to put cheese and olives out on the sideboard in the dining room, which mostly kept people in one place and not underfoot.
My job was pretty simple; all I had to do was make a lamb roast, which, once you put it in the oven, pretty much makes itself. I had cut slits all over the raw meat and inserted little bits of garlic as the only seasoning. We brought the leftovers home, and now have a giant bone in the freezer, suitable for rendering a cavewoman unconscious or for making stock.
It was funny to get the leftover lamb from my companion’s dad. He chucked it into a plastic grocery sack and tied a knot on the top, which made me realize the apple doesn’t fall too far, at least in terms of man-Tupperware. I was raised to hermetically seal all leftovers, but you know what? That lamb was fine.
I also discovered something odd in the neighborhood we stayed in. We walked past an adorable house and I asked if it was a bed-and-breakfast. I was told no, it is a special house, though. Apparently the woman who owns it had a ceremony and married it. It’s called the Ladd-Reingold house, and she runs a hat museum out of it. I wish I would have known about the museum when we were there.
Also, we bought a stupid amount of books at Powell’s. Stupid because we are running out of shelf space, and because we spent a lot of money (for us, the thrifty bitches). It’s good, though. I want to put them all on the bed and roll around in them, really. And the portable crib worked! She slept in it both nights. We should get some use out of it this summer and when we go on our honeymoon in the fall.
