Beautiful dinner last night. I had filet mignon, so tender the knife slid right through it. Peter had swordfish, which he said was out of this world. He wished I could taste it. Too bad I'm wickedly allergic to swordfish!
We drove down to the mall in Trumbull after dinner, which was crammed with last-minute shoppers and the creepiest Santa Claus you ever saw in your life. I wouldn't put a doll in his lap, let alone a child.
Peter's truck broke down as we were crawling out of the mall parking lot with thousands of other drivers. We pulled alongside the road, and B came to save us. Peter spent most of this Christmas Eve morning on the phone trying to find a mechanic to solve the problem, but everybody's closed. I told him to relax. Everything will work out.
Right now AMC is doing a Miracle on 34th Street marathon. Miracle is one of my favorite movies, and I tried to get the offspring to watch it, but Child Two flat-out refused, and the other one isn't really paying attention. At least I didn't cry this time when the little orphaned Dutch girl sings with Santa.
We're staying in Connecticut tonight. I wonder what my cousins are doing. I think Peter wants to go out for dinner and come home afterwards. He's always talking about having a quiet Christmas Eve.
After Miracle on 34th Street ends, I have to get on the Nordic Track. I gotta work off last night's dinner before I eat tonight's.
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