Keep Those Rags and Machines Humming

After 8 hours on wintery roads yesterday, our car was encrusted in a thin film of salt. Of course, I had no idea that was true until I brushed the new-fallen snow from it this morning. At any rate, a trip to the car wash was definitely in order, and so this afternoon on the way home from the grocery store I made a quick right into an express outfit and waited in line to pay at the kiosk, but not before turning down two offers of unlimited daily washes for 25.99 a month.

Next we pulled around to the entrance where employees literally danced and bounced with signs reading first Pull Forward and then Put it in neutral and step off the brakes. Oh, they laughed at my indecisiveness, but the existence of the signs reassured me that I was not the only clueless client. I could not think how long it had been been since I rode through the car wash, but it was like a sudsy amusement park attraction with flashing blue and red lights and giant rags and brushes and soap and water squirting everywhere, so thrilling that it made me giggle.

"Maybe I will get the unlimited pass!" I told Heidi and Elaine as we drove out into the cold evening in our newly clean car. "That was kind of fun!"

The Night Closes In

After several hours of driving through sub-zero temperatures on the way home from Buffalo a bit of road fatigue hit me somewhere on I-70, and all of a sudden NPR was making me a little sleepy. "How about some Name that Tune?" I suggested to Heidi.

Ours is a road trip-ready version which involves hitting scan on the radio and racing to identify whatever comes up on the next station in range. Of course the tunes vary considerably depending on where we are, which is all part of the fun. At that point in the trip there was a lot of country music, both classic and contemporary, some current pop, some straight up rock, a little classic rock, and... then there was Max 92.9 broadcasting from Buddy Lou's restaurant in Hancock and playing deep cuts and hits from the 70s and 80s.

It turns out that there's nothing like recognizing Exile's Kiss You All Over in 2 bars after several decades to reinvigorate a weary driver in her mid-50s, folks. 

Impervious

It was zero degrees when we landed in Buffalo this evening, but you wouldn't have known it by looking at some of our fellow travelers. A frigid draft chilled the baggage claim area each time the sliding glass doors whooshed open, but those guys in shorts didn't flinch at all. And I wrapped my scarf tightly around my neck before zipping my coat all the way up and putting on my hat and mittens, but that perma-tanned lady with the in the hot pink Vera Bradley shift and matching slides never wavered once as she shuffled straight out into the bone-chilling night without even a jacket.

Honey Do

Heidi does not love playing games, but she knows her in-laws well.  As stocking stuffers, she got each of us a game to play.

AND even more impressively, she spent the day playing them with us today.

Now that's the Christmas spirit!

Process to Progress

After a delicious dinner and some traditional Christmas cracker hilarity, one by one the family members drifted from the enormous round dining room table, some with unkept promises to return and others with goodnight wishes for those of us who stayed behind. At last it was only Treat, Victor, Courtney and me, and the conversation turned to politics and the state of our country in these tumultuous times. For two hours we spoke and listened earnestly, trying to reconcile our beliefs, experiences, hopes, and fears.

"Are you guys solving all the world's problems?" Jordan asked me when I stepped into the kitchen for some ice water.

"No," I sighed, "but we're doing a good job identifying them."

We laughed.

"I guess that's the first step to fixing them though," I shrugged and headed back in.

White Christmas

3:45 came early this morning after a fun Christmas Eve of dinner and gifts. Lucy spent a restless night, too, sighing and snuggling hard into Heidi or me on the bumpy foldout couch. When I opened the back door to let her out, she bounded into six or more inches of new fallen snow, and the flakes were still swirling steadily from the sky.

A quick check confirmed that our 6 am flight was still on time, but a glance out the front door revealed a silent wonderland of undisturbed drifts with not a plow to be found. With a knot in my stomach, I called the cab company to confirm, but my call went straight to voicemail. The minutes crawled by as I sent text messages and emails to ensure our ride to the airport was on the way, but without a word in return, we finally woke up Heidi's dad from a sound winter's sleep.

He was ready in a flash, and in a few moments we were crunching our way over the luster of the unplowed thruway. We made it with a little time to spare. "White Christmases are over-rated," the gate agent had joked as he scanned our boarding passes, but I couldn't agree, even though when at last our plane climbed above the storm and headed south into the starry dawn, I felt like I'd had a full day already.

Taste Testing

I got an email early last week from SOB, Step Out Buffalo, describing "5 Hidden Gem Chocolatiers You Probably Don't Know About". They were right about that, living 381 miles south as I do, but I wondered if Heidi's parents were equally in the dark. And so yesterday I proposed a little tour of the five, and despite snow and ice, the four of us headed gamely out.

Heidi's dad actually grew up in a candy store in Buffalo, his father's business until business turned bad in the early fifties, and he was rather skeptical that these places might exist without his knowledge. We hit some matinee theater traffic on our way to the first one, and on top of the weather, it was closed when we got there.

The next stop was around the corner, though, and we found parking right in front of an early 20th century brick building wth plate glass windows and a wooden door with jingle bells. Inside wide floors creaked a little under a shiny pressed-tin ceiling. Wooden shelves held packages of handmade chocolate in holiday wrappers, and an old brass cash register sat next to a glass case full of single truffles and turtles and squares of bark. A green accountant lamp spilled yellow light over a big desk in a cluttered office, and in the way back of the place we could see stainless equipment in a tiny chocolate factory. The clerk offered us generous samples, and the chocolate was delicious-- creamy and sweet, but not too sweet.

We left with a shopping bag full of treats and headed off to the next place which was a vegan chocolatier and bakery. Heidi was especially pleased with the maple sponge candy, but I was impressed by the guy sculpting donuts and cupcakes with the snow he shoveled from the walk. We decided to stop for lunch to balance the sugar, and ended up at a fun burger place with 24 beers on tap, all offered in 5 ounces.

I could have stayed there for a while, but it was a little early in the day to start drinking, so we headed off to the last stop, a place outside of town and closer to home. They had ice cream and 25 different types of filled chocolates and truffles, but by then, I couldn't try another bite, and so I was content to sit in my wire and wood parlor chair and chat with Gary as he polished off a turtle sundae. The owner of the place overheard our conversation, and mentioned a couple of other places we missed. Agreeing to save those for another day, we piled into the car just as he was leaving too.

"Have fun with your chocolate crawl!" he waved, and I laughed, because that's exactly what it was!