In which I enjoy a lovely, relaxing weekend at home.

Saturday I carried boxes down from the attic and Gramma and I spent the day redecorating for the holiday. All the framed photos from the corner cabinet were boxed up, all the Santas were unpacked, and things were dusted and arranged and displayed. We had fun.

Sunday I drove the car to the store; I get to drive the car this week since Gramma’s ankle is wrapped up and she can’t fit her foot into any of her shoes. When we got home, Gramma baked butterscotch oatmeal cookies.

Sunday night I cooked. I made Indian food: channa masala, cumin rice, and cucumber raita. Gramma had seconds. Then we had tea and cookies for dessert and discussed cake-baking.

I learned that when margarine first hit the market, the dairy farmers lobbied and made it illegal for margarine to be sold butter-colored. It used to come white with a small capsule of yellow food coloring it, and you’d pour the coloring in and mix it up yourself. If you got lazy, your margarine would end up with bright-yellow and white streaks in it. Weird little historical details such as these fascinate me.