Merry Xmas Birthday - Fun, Food, Gifts - Poem: Red Nail Polish

What? It's only 7:32 pm?

Light rain here on Cowbell Road. Maybe 68 degrees.

Just got home from "the kids" house. My blood sugar.... 98. That's good. Injected a truckload of insulin. You'll see why.

First, some leftover biz. 

 This is my Andersen storm door and window which rotted out in the rain. I posted it on FB and said, "The Let it Go" Department.

 On FB, I said Merry Christmas from Pal and Richard Parker.

 New duds from Ada Moss Fleisher.

When I was at Chico's, I said to Jade,  I have a lotta restrictions. The jacket must have a pocket. It did. They also had blouses which went down - literally - to your knees.

Nice shirts but why on earth?

 While at Chico's I saw a nail salon. Couldn't find the entrance.

Realized it was at the back of the famous Le Papillon Hair Dresser.

Oh no! I thought, it'll cost a fortune.

Twasn't all that bad. My nail stylist, Mara, 68, a dissident from the former Moldavia, helped me select the shade, made by Zoya. She couldn't emigrate until 1981 - the rest of her family was here - bc she was a dissident.

Like me, her hair is all white. She takes Biotin which makes her nails and hair grow faster.

What, I asked her, was one of the things you noticed when you came to America.

The old ladies, she said.

They all colored their hair. They didn't look like the old babooshkas in the the Soviet Union.

So, got up early. Made my egg breakfast. Then back to bed for a nap. When I got up I was exhausted but soon rallied. Watched Netflix - The Blacklist and Criminal Minds. Great shows. Sarah just turned me on to Sons of Anarchy, which I'll begin to watch.

She and Ethan are in Minnehaha, visiting Ethan's bro, Spencer. They'll eat at a great-food nightclub and Ethan will play the piano. 

Finally I was ready to bake a challah for tonite's dindin. I'm grating cheese in a very old grater. There's the yeast and the sea salt Sarah bought. Coffee?  Iris's pumpkin roast. Yum!!!

Had to do the batter twice. First batter was lumpy as I tried to preserve some 'lumps' from my last bread. But they did not dissolve. Luckily I had all the necessary ingredients.

You know where I found the recipe?

From me own blog.

Why do I wear gloves?

To protect my nails AND cuz I don't wanna get dough under my nails. I used to didn't mind.  

 I'd put the dough in the oven to rise for 40 mins.  Nice and light and ready to punch down and shape into two loaves.

Ready to rise on the chair. I wore my PJs all day till it was time to leave. They had busted on a seam but Scott sewed em up for me.

 Peek a boo! Seven minutes to go.

 Ah, perfecto.

Scott and I drove over for dinner to the Demings.

Dan, I mean, Max got a huge new train set.

Him ecstatic!

Scott hadn't seen him in a while and he's talking very well.

Last time, said Scott, he was only grunting.

Max LOVES to sing.  Twinkle twinkle little star. And the Eagles song, complete with spelling the word 'Eagles.'  Barb and I were kvelling over how cute Max is.

Long discussion about sports. I said Dan was brought up by a mom who didn't watch sports. When he visited his dad in TX, they all watched sports.

 Grace said she figured out nearly all the features of this huge Barbie doll house - almost all of em, she said.

We loved the flushing of the toilet.

Dan had two choices of vino. I had red.

 I took a doggie bag home.

Oh, no! It's barking.

The ham was sublime. Nicole said she bought it frozen at the Giant. My gifts for them were Gift Cards from the Giant and two for the kids at B & N.

Nicole did a stupendous job making the dinner for us all. 

Scott,  aka Dr Freud,  also loved the ham. He didn't have any of my bread. He follows a no-grain diet to help heal his back. Grace liked the cranberry sauce and my bread with butter.

Grace, you better not eat the butter! She tried to take a bite out of it. Scott used to eat whole sticks of butter as a kid.

 Delicious sweet taters. Barb drank a beer.

 We were talking about Barb's ex, a very decorated cop. He was a cryptographer during the Vietnam war era, tho he didn't go there. Germany, I believe. Brilliant man. Died too soon. She told us how they met. On Xmas eve, in fact. He and a friend were in a second story room, the ground was filled with snow, and they each jumped out onto the ground.

Hmm, wonder what that prepares you for in life. 

Dan is a very kind man. He went to the kitchen to get me the liquor to pour over the dessert.

 Ham and turkey on right, gravy.

 Scott n I got this at a wedding. His childhood friend Paul Bongart had these masks in the ballroom.

 The strawberry shortcake cupcakes were scrumptious.

See the Jacquin's Creme de Some-sing we poured over it.

Grace simply ate all the whipped cream off the top.

Gifts:  Barb gave me a large Body Butter, which I love!

Dan got me licorice. I told him I'll suck on it when I'm upstairs writing.

Off to Scott's now.

His boss gave him the night off! Highly unlikely at SEPTA. I was so glad we could be together on my milestone BD.

Gonna watch some TV with him now. What snack should I bring over?

Ham? The leading contender.

RED NAIL POLISH


Mara, a dissident from Romania, takes me back
to the nail salon, noisy as a bee hive – are they

giving me dirty looks as I lurch toward

my chair? I’m wrong. The stylists have

smirks they’ve developed over the many

years they sailed the seas toward their

final voyage to the Butterfly Salon.

Mara takes my tiny hand in hers. Hers shakes.

Did they torture her when she spoke her truth

in the motherland? Just as tonight, tales of Christian

martyrs flounce across the television screen. It is

Christmas time. The narrator says, How many ways

of torture can they think of to delight the crowds?

I want to hear what happened to Perpetua who

was nursing her child but fumble for the Off button

in my blood-red nails.  

Mara – she rolls her Rs and I roll them with

her – go through the pinks. Each nail holds

a different shade. Forget it, I say, you can

barely see it. What I want, but do not say,

is to announce myself when I enter the room.

To make an “appearance” like Jackie Onassis

sans the pill box hat and non-Hodgkins

lymphoma.

We go to the wall. Reds are pulled from the shelf.
One, then two, then three. “That’s it!” I say,

spitting out the words in the bright fluorescent glow.

Back at the chair, layer upon layer is applied

like butter and jam on bread.

Off to the drying fan I go. Red nails steady

I remember our Savior dying on the cross.

Our birthday is the morrow. Mara, dressed

in red, comes over to check me.

Dismissed! Standing up I admire my

Onassis nails, red as Christ’s blood and

know that tomorrow, on my 70^th birthday

the Christ and I will be dancing, toe to toe,

cheek to cheek. Two Jews who have found

one another across the ages.