I just ate a plate of latkes at Rene’s Cafe. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I love potato pancakes. That Rene’s keeps some kind of potato pancakes on the menu is one of the reasons I love it.
The best thing about Rene’s Cafe isn’t the potato pancakes of the eggs Benedict. Liam and I go to Rene’s together on the Monday mornings when he’s home while Emma is at pre-school. As soon as his side order of bacon hits the table, he attacks it; it might even be gone by the time his pancakes arrive. I sit across from him, slowly eating veggie eggs benny. Liam can’t understand why I would replace the canadian bacon with spinach and tomato slices, and he can’t believe how slowly I eat.
Liam and I talk about stuff. He tells me about his classmates. I tell him about Mahatma Gandhi, and we agree that his birthday should be a holiday. We discuss Harry Portter; why everyone might rather that Percy Weasly died in place of Fred but that maybe it had to be Fred. The best thing about Rene's is that, at Rene’s don’t rush their patrons. The best thing about Rene’s is that Liam and I can stay and talk. as long as we want.
A writing challenge for the Winter is going to be to write a piece of Harry Potter fan-fiction. When I’ve finished a story about George Weasly, I’ll give it to Liam, so we can talk about it over breakfast at Rene’s.
The Campbell / O’Keefes have made pacts with the Campbells and the Bendas; this Christmas, we are shopping only for the kids. I love shopping for children, particularly at Christmas. I like it because I do it in person. I spend time in Porter Square Books looking at the picture books and seeing the illustrations for myself and reading the first pages of novels. I enjoy talking to the salespeople and finding out what books they recommend. I walk up Mass Ave to a real toy store; one where the toys are displayed in interesting ways. These are toys that a buyer selected, toys that look like fun. I might even get to see a toy out of the box, to see what it feels like, how a kid would play with it. The salespeople can talk about the the toys because they know what they are selling.
I like shopping in small stores because people working in these stores are sure of what they sell. People who work in stores don’t get paid poorly to pack and ship boxes. I like shopping in stores because I realize how much I’m actually buying and how much it actually costs. I like shopping in stores because going to the store is an event.
Yes, I do buy presents on-line. When I’m buying CDs, computer gear or hard-to-find books, it makes sense. For years, our route has been covered by the same UPS man, and I like him. He carried boxes in for me when I was pregnant and shouldn’t have lifted things. He came to our house twice in one day so he could bring me a late-arriving package two days before Christmas. He always calls me “Mrs. O’Keefe”, and I don’t let many people do that.
Last week, I took my First-Level Kung Fu test. Instructor Karen reviewed my test. When we scheduled the test, she tried to put me at ease saying, “I’ll be reviewing the test; it’s only me. Only you Karen, the incredible woman who was still leading kids’ classes and two days before her son was born, only you Karen, who, cute as you are could probably snap somebody in half.
What makes Karen ( and Jonathan, and Marc, but I’m talking about Karen today), s o great is that she knows how to help me and when to leave me alone. When I was working my way through the Long Fist and Southern Fist forms, I barely noticed her at all. I felt like I was all alone working. Full of purpose and all alone.
With Karen’s help, I proved a few things . Because I wasn’t trying to keep up with a roomful of people while Jonathan counted out ten side-kicks on either side, I could do them a little better (not much better, I will always hate side-kicks) if I did them slowly. Because Karen insisted that I take more time with it, I realized that I actually do a passable snap kick with my left leg. I can pull either leg up to my chest and stand there; I didn’t know that.
She’s the tough one, Karen is. She doesn't modify moves for me as often as Marc ot Jonathan do. Now, I adore Instructor Jonathan, don’t imagine that I don’t, but I think I still scare him. Small women with Cerebral Palsy probably scare lots of able-bodied men. I’m not sure that Jonathan has ever gotten over the fear that I was going to fall over and break something.
Last night, Jonathan lead the class. I hadn’t seen him in maybe a month, and his classes always are fun. I walked home though the cold dark, with a few snowflakes swirling in the air. I’m not crazy about the wind, but it’s almost Christmas, so it should be snowing.
I woke up this morning wishing for the tiny apple pies my mother always made; cups of pastry filled with homemade chunky applesauce and big dollops of whipped cream. I missed those, and the sausage rolls and the many-layered wonder of Christmas trifle Mama always made. Her trifle recipe left the world when she did, so here comes my yearly effort at making something like it. One week before Christmas Eve, it’s good to miss these things.
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