I’m staying indoors instead. Reading and writing. Just started the precise, moribund, and character driven, “Nora Webster,” by Colm Toibin. Giving him another chance after limited interest in, “Brooklyn,” and, “The Master.” On deck are two novels by Modiano.
Sure, I’m shopping, whatsamattayou? That’s why the Internet was invented.
Gift boxes from Bella Viva, surprises from other sources, things arrive in brown boxes carried up the steps by men in brown or blue and black uniforms. I sign, I store, they go away.
I’m thinking of Christmas and New Year weeks of dinners, too. What with beautiful fish on Christmas Eve, chickens on days before, fondue, leg of lamb, ribeye and bone-in steaks, and pasta, lots of pasta. There’s a Neapolitan at Russo’s who is making very good southern pasta; now if she wasn’t so grumpy, we’d be all set.