Them Apples

I do really intend to dial back my frenzied social calendar.  There was one day last week I just came home after dinner, stayed in, and meditatively trimmed my nails and stared at the wall.  (Item: there's cool art/stuff on my wall.)  But then there were friends that wanted to sing, and an evening of pretend winter camping, and before you know it you're scheduling a hiking date down to the minute.  Hey, check out our rustic attempted igloo/fortress:

We spent an hour or two digging snow blocks, relaxed with some

melted snow hot chocolate, and essentially exhausted ourselves with

fresh air sort of practicing survival skills.  (Damnit, I meant to move that La Croix can.)

Chef Brian in our kitchen dugout.

It's a new year, a new month, bringing giant boats loaded with materials for the station rebuild that will soon up-end the flow of life in town.  That's the idea, at least.  I glimpsed the ice breaker about twelve miles out a few days ago -- it curiously disappeared, but this morning is parked in the ice right in front of town.  One resupply vessel is on its way but the other is broken down in Hawaii.  And we'll have a fuel tanker squeezed in there somewhere.  Hopefully some fresh fruit and shell eggs will make their way here via some mode of transportation.

We're getting to the point where even dried out citrus is worth its weight in gold.  Weeks of forced abstinence from fresh food mean we're resorting to Starburst candy and Gatorade for a semblance of the real thing.  But for one precious meal, I was able to deliver.  I squirreled away good cheese, a hallowed head of lettuce, two tomatoes, a bell pepper, and an orange -- and most importantly, a friend brought a bag of eight giant lemons back from New Zealand just before Christmas.  By sleight of hand and cajoling my cook friends to turn their backs while I was near the butter, I was able to make dinner for the Shuttles crew to celebrate mid-season.  Salad and chocolate and smoked salmon dip and mulled wine and quiche (with real cream!) and brown butter shortbread bars with lemon curd.  And from our gift exchange I scored a hand-crafted little bird and an apple.  A lot of people miss their dogs and look forward to petting random puppies when we return to civilization; you'll find me caressing spring greens and cucumbers and kiwis in the supermarket.