It's 6:00 p.m. and we (Saint Marcel, Margaret, and I) are waiting for supper to be delivered.
Minneapolis doesn't have the kind of restaurant delivery, I think, that seems to be so common here.
We're having Chinese. Sweet & Sour Spareribs, a double order of dumplings, wonton soup, pork lo
mein, and shrimp lo mein. Margaret doesn't think that will be enough for three of us. Saints
preserve us!
I ate the last of the cherry and apple strudels this morning before checking in with my friend Mimi
The Theater and Movie Costume Designer. She invited me to come over (she has a bum foot) and we'd
either go out or stay in. Margaret and Mimi gave me swell bus directions and I sallied forth all by
myself. Easy peazey! I have my magic transportation card that let's me ride free because I'm cute. I
arrived at Mimi's Fifth Avenue (a low number---almost East Village) apartment and we ate lunch there
after drinking some coffee and catching up a bit. She'd been in Minneapolis for our 40th class
reunion this past summer but I didn't visit much with her there.
Mimi had been busy cooking -- she cooks! White bean soup over which she grated some parmigiano
reggiano. A romaine salad with pomegranates, mushrooms, walnuts, pears, and a very light, nearly non-
existent, dressing. French bread, creme fraiche, and crackers. Great food! I brought her some jam
and a cream cheese coffeecake and she was properly appreciative. We discussed old times, caught up
on family and Mimi's work and had a lovely three hours together.
On my way back uptown (did I get that right? From 10th to 76th would be uptown, nu?) I stopped at
the Union Square Christmas Fair. In all that snow, an outdoor Christmas Fair. Fun. I bought a little
something that I can't talk about because it's for Becky and I'm copying her on this. (Don't get too
excited, Bu!)
I got back on a bus and came home. Margaret has replenished my TaB stash and she's drinking red wine
now with Marcel. Now, there's a surprise. I've an appetite -- all the walking I did, along with the
cold weather, I think.
We don't know what we're going to do tomorrow. Something fun, I'll bet. Margaret has just informed
me that we're going to go "somewhere nice" for lunch or dinner tomorrow. I hope Saint Marcel will
join us -- he's a dear man.
That's all.
-Barb, from Margaret's account