A day filled with blessings
While eating my mid-day brunch here this morning, I was thinking what a beautiful scene my table would make for one of those painters who choose mundane, everyday moments to transform. Extremely exacting as to depth and purity, they blend colors and brush strokes with such ease, adding whites, grays or whatever shades their talented mind suggests.
Their superb ability creates illusions of softness, translucency or silkiness — any kind of texture. When food is their chosen subject, they manage it so well the viewer can almost taste what they’re seeing. Right now I wish one of those magically talented people was looking over my shoulder.
I luxuriate over a clear cobalt blue glass plate on the brown wood-grain table. One side of the plate is hidden by small clusters of green grapes — to which such an artist would impart the soft, cool feel everyone remembers from having eaten them. Each viewer could taste the juice after their teeth puncture the soft skin. Mmmm.
Joining the sweet, juicy grapes on the plate are two shiny, almost rubbery halves of avocado skin. Each is filled with a tingly blend of rich, raw avocado and mayonnaise, artistically heaped there after being whipped into heavenly smoothness. A deft turn of my spoon created a small swirl on top. The artist whose palate favored that combination would recall the flavor and texture so vividly their tummy might growl. Those pairings evoke each nuance, causing viewers of the art to re-live the taste bud tingle with joy.
Of course, the crowning glory for such a painting — all the colors, tastes and textures crowding my mind at the moment — would have shown my pale, lovingly brush-stroked Pinky cat curled nearby, gazing longingly at the table. Below, on the floor, my beautiful dark-headed, dark-eyed Dally dog with the bluish-gray coat and long wagging tail would appear in the same fashion.
Most wonderful to me is that I can carry that scene, and all those delicious tastes and textures, with me in my happy head sprouting the messy side braid. I took it along as I joined some friends playing dominoes at the Weston County Senior Citizen’s Center until 4 p.m. or thereabouts. I continued savoring those images en route there, where I enjoyed nearly four hours of fun at the game I love. How very bles’t I am.
The day persisted in offering special treats. After two and a half hours enjoying our concentration, laughter and banter around the big table there, someone suggested — and everyone voted for — a refreshing hot chocolate break.
From the empty cafeteria area two volunteers obtained Styrofoam cups and little envelopes containing powdered hot chocolate mix “with or without marshmallows.” We added the almost boiling water, stirred vigorously, then added enough cool water to prevent burned tongues. In short order, with a couple of trips each, we had served the delightful beverages around our nice big table. All were sipping away, with or without straws as they preferred. Smiles were wide and content, even dreamy.
The eldest of our group — who plays piano beautifully and had serenaded us as we set up our game — looked up over her cup of hot chocolate and said, “I have something to say.”
Everyone focused on her as she continued, “Playing here is all we ever do as a group. I think we should all go out to some nice restaurant and enjoy a meal together sometime.” All ears tuned in — far be it from anyone in this group not to favor a suggestion like that.
Smiling back at us, she added, “You’ll all have to pick a place to go because I don’t know any of them.”
Quick looks around the table resulted in three or four beginning to speak at the same time. It was unmistakable that the same word fell in unison from each voice. That brought a puzzled look from our friend, and again there were many answers in unison.
She said she didn’t know anything about it, so someone gave her the rundown. The food is tasty, the restaurant is clean, they’re open all day and into the evening, have a long table where we could all sit together and offer a wide variety of menu choices. Then someone chirped, “And we can just go Dutch.”
That’s when the dear lady firmly closed her mouth, stared at each of us in turn and told us how insulting that was to her friendly intent.
Her words brought humble looks from all, an embarrassed blush from the impulsive speaker and blended voices agreeing, “How wonderful ... Oh what fun ... We can hardly wait ...” amid relieved laughter and the fervent hope she had not been too deeply insulted.
If you see a giggling gaggle of ladies with varying shades of graying hair trooping happily into a local eating establishment sometime soon, you’ll be correct in assuming, “Oh — that must be the Domino Girls going out to lunch!”