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muckefuckSometimes plans change so many times you despair of them ever working out. When I first gave somethought to Chinese New Year dinner, it seemed like an excellent opportunity to spend time with a lovely couple we've been meaning to have over since practically this time last year. Then I remembered I had an opera this weekend and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu didn't want to host on Friday because there was a lecture he wanted to attend. So I tried to find a taker for my ticket, which proved difficult. Then I succeeded in talking the GWO into having the dinner on Friday after all. By this time, one of the invitees had a conflict. Then they had a death in the family and couldn't come at all, putting us back to square one.
After all that, I came home tonight and found the Old Man in the living room with Nuphy. The fire was blazing, as was every string of lights we'd hung for the holidays. (I insisted on leaving them up; he insisted in turn on leaving them off until the new holiday.) Everything was laid in the kitchen to assemble a meal of lion's head soup, salmon in spicy bean paste, Buddha's delight, and eight precious pudding.
If that menu sounds familiar, it's because we've done some variation of it almost every year now since before we moved house--and that made it easy to put together on a work night for me and an outing day for him. As for dumplings and rice cakes, I had them at lunch when I ordered ttŏk-mandu kuk. On the way home, I stopped by the drugstore for the one confection without which Spring Festival is unthinkable: Ferrero Rocher. To my amusement, the Old Man had had the exact same thought. As for Nuphs, he brought us "Lesbian ouzo" (from Plomari, on the southern end of the island), which I sampled with dessert and wished I could've had a full glass of.
By the time my ex left, it was snowing softly--not the best augury for the new year, but not a bad one either. At least we had a horse visit us for the Year of the Horse, and one hopes some of his luck will rub off.
monshu didn't want to host on Friday because there was a lecture he wanted to attend. So I tried to find a taker for my ticket, which proved difficult. Then I succeeded in talking the GWO into having the dinner on Friday after all. By this time, one of the invitees had a conflict. Then they had a death in the family and couldn't come at all, putting us back to square one.After all that, I came home tonight and found the Old Man in the living room with Nuphy. The fire was blazing, as was every string of lights we'd hung for the holidays. (I insisted on leaving them up; he insisted in turn on leaving them off until the new holiday.) Everything was laid in the kitchen to assemble a meal of lion's head soup, salmon in spicy bean paste, Buddha's delight, and eight precious pudding.
If that menu sounds familiar, it's because we've done some variation of it almost every year now since before we moved house--and that made it easy to put together on a work night for me and an outing day for him. As for dumplings and rice cakes, I had them at lunch when I ordered ttŏk-mandu kuk. On the way home, I stopped by the drugstore for the one confection without which Spring Festival is unthinkable: Ferrero Rocher. To my amusement, the Old Man had had the exact same thought. As for Nuphs, he brought us "Lesbian ouzo" (from Plomari, on the southern end of the island), which I sampled with dessert and wished I could've had a full glass of.
By the time my ex left, it was snowing softly--not the best augury for the new year, but not a bad one either. At least we had a horse visit us for the Year of the Horse, and one hopes some of his luck will rub off.
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