Who doesn’t like a blank slate?
I don’t make new year’s resolutions because never going to keep them, but I like the idea of starting fresh. And that I can try to do.
It might be why I do a full-house purge every January. You gotta out with the old before you in with anything. Plus I find it incredibly satisfying. Boxes and bags of things someone else might use–and clean, tidy closets and shelves and drawers for me. [Please see Editor Note below]
But first, we had to end the old year.
We do that around here with a full day in the kitchen prepping for our annual New Year’s Day Open House. The fun part of the prep is having the kitchen full of girls.
Kayla shows up first, willing and able. I’ve already started the red beans–culling out a portion before I add the ham hock so my veggie girl and Kat can have some. And I’ve mixed up and rolled 108 meatballs now simmering in red sauce.
Yes, I said 108.
Laura comes bearing her InstantPot to boil the eggs for deviling. This, she tells me–and it bears out–cuts the time down, doesn’t require my magic solution to make the eggs come easily from the shells.
And here’s Sarah.
Sarah and Laura, InstantPot experts–deal with the eggs. I don’t like to think about pressure cooking as I have vivid memories of my mother’s old cooker exploding.
But this doesn’t happen.
Kayla’s making brownies for her trifle, I’m making whatever comes next–and Kat arrives with Griffin. He’s the most delicious thing in the kitchen.
We stir, chop, cook, mix. I’m doing a couple more veggie dishes this year, experimenting to see what goes over with the crowd.
We drink champagne while everyone pitches in.
It’s a long, busy, productive day, and how better to spend the last day of the decade than with people you love?
Kayla’s building her trifle, Kat’s creating a huge casserole of tortellini and cheese, Sarah and Laura are shelling three dozen eggs. I’ve got two big-ass hams in the oven, and my pal Ruth’s recipe for Party Potatoes to finish up. And a whole lot more.
Jason–who had a show rehearsal–arrives.
…24 hours earlier
I’d emailed him in a panic the day before.
The saga is thus:
At the end of my work day, I go to back up on my flash drive before my workout. I get: MALFUNCTION!!! And something else that my shock has forgotten.
Okay, well, just reboot, it’ll be fine.
Okay, breathe. Try a new flash drive. And the screen goes black.
There is no breath as I hastily reboot, check if my work is still there (I’m talking 29 and a half chapters of a 30 chapter book.)
It’s still there, so okay.
Now let’s get out the Surface I use when traveling. Plug in the flash drive. And the keyboard won’t work.
I try everything (and send the panic email). I go to the desktop and Google, follow the instructions for what to do. Keyboard works.
For a minute. But even in that minute won’t read the drive. Not MALFUNCTION but INVALID.
I obsessively check, and my work remains intact. So I put all my faith in Jason and go workout.
An email from him when I check assures me all will be well. I’m already backed up on some other location. (I knew he did this, but I don’t understand it.) And he’ll figure things out when he gets here.
Back to prep day
So he’s here, and he figures things out. Apparently–though he’d never experienced it–the little drive itself malfunctioned and screwed up everything.
He fixes, puts in (has to program I think as I use the ancient WP) another flash drive.
So I don’t have to end the year weeping and gnashing my teeth while cursing the cruel and capricious gods of technology.
Ah, sweet relief provided by the prince of all sons.
Meanwhile, my girls have to go. Much gratitude for the help and the company. Post-nap Griffin eats hearty, and as I added noodles and sauce to his meatballs, gets a sink bath.
BW is the only one with enough gas left to make it till midnight.
Happy New Year means Kat puts together her adorable veg crudite–this year with a little something extra for Colt and his pal CJ.
We have set up, we have making whatever needed to be made in the morning. We have Griffin to entertain–and be entertained by. We have dogs to chase out of the kitchen.
Then we have guests. Lots of guests. Lots of happy, lots of people, lots of noise, lots of food. An all-day deal with friends and family to ring it all in.
And happily, enough party leftovers that Kat and Jason can take enough home, and I have enough here none of us need cook this weekend.
And Monday, it’s the start of a well-earned week and the spa for all of us. With this year’s extra-special treat of Kat’s participation in Nemocolin’s art show.
We’re so proud of her! She’s already sold SIX paintings. She has a website. Shoot, what is her website? Laura, do you have it? I have book brain as I worked today in anticipation of a week not, or barely, working.
[Laura Knows All: www.katpong.com]
My house is de-holidayed–clean slate. The house purge will begin when I’m home from the spa. And I’m going to thoroughly enjoy a week of relaxing and cuddling Griffin.
My first, miserable draft (first drafts are always miserable for me) is done.
A nice start to the New Year. A nice page or two written on that blank slate.
I hope however you ended the decade made you happy. And whatever you write on the start of the new one brings you joy.
Editor note: I’ve posted Nora’s pieces about the whole-house purge for nearly 8 years. While it’s not my personal style, I admire her ruthless clear out of drawers, closets and cabinets in every room, on every floor. I see how that clean slate sets her up for the year.
But, I’m here to tell you that even the Mistress of the Purge misses some spots. After the December signing, Sarah decided she wanted some tea, something herbal. Nora doesn’t drink it, but she’s gifted tea all the time so she keeps it in one of the lower cabinets for guests who do. I was sitting in front of that cabinet on that December evening so I reached down and ran through the inventory to find a taste Sarah wanted.
Idly, I turned a package over and there it was: Expires 8/16. I picked up another, expiration date 2013. Another, 2017 (that was the freshest). Sarah was already steeping her tea as I started flinging tea out of the basket, announcing dates.
“Tea expires?” Nora asked. “Who knew?”
Me, for one. Sarah opted to live in ignorance, but since she didn’t expire herself, I can now reveal that she chose the oldest tea there — expiration 2006.
I tossed three boxes then and there, proclaiming that the 2020 purge was now underway. Nora’s sworn all tea will be gone the second week of January. I will bring a fresh (truly) assortment for the Golden in Death signing.
It’s nice to know she’s human. <g>