Ed watched all Thursday afternoon as I clicked through holiday shopping lists and fulfilled the dreams of my beloveds (one can hope!) on line.
You really are a true blue American consumer, aren't you... he marveled.
I admit it: I like to holiday shop for my family. I like bugging my kids for hints of what they or their spouses need. I like going "off list" with a few surprises, even though I'm sure they have some trepidation when I do this. (Consider the couple of years I moonlighted at l'Occitane: one girl eventually told me that she didn't care how good the discount, I really have to slow down with filling their drawers with tubes of hand cream.)
Today, of course, is America's big retail binge. But, like so many others, I had let my fingers do the walking/clicking and except for shopping that I always leave for myself for the December travels to the other side of the ocean, I'm done.
Still, there's grocery shopping! And so after breakfast...
... I coax Ed to tag along with me on this weekly ritual of mine. No, cheepers! You're staying home!
To Ed I say -- there are sure to be free samples at the store!
He comes.
There are no free samples.
He reads the paper in the cafe while I shop, happy to have him at least there, somewhere on the sidelines, like in the old days when I lived in the city, grocery shopped nearly every day and nearly always had him tagging along.
So why have we become such awful home bodies? Aside from walks -- and they're terribly proximate to the farmette -- we hardly ever venture out together. Remember daily afternoons at Paul's cafe? I can hardly believe we did that! Lunches at Pasqual's and dinners at Great Dane? A thing of the past.
I blame retirement (his, but especially mine) and winter. Those two forces have the strength of a gale wind to shut the door and keep us huddled inside. As I carry grocery bags into the farmhouse and the cheepers hover underfoot again, I'm thinking -- I'm sure glad I'm not like them, facing a winter of cold. Once I step inside the farmhouse, I do not have to go out!
But, the realization that we are so glued to our warm spaces gets to me and I propose another walk along the rural roads today. And Ed agrees.
And if ever you should commend us for being good sports about getting in that walk, it would be on this day -- gray, yes that, but also quite cold (I don't think it ever passed freezing). Just a couple of photos. It was hard to feel inspired to reach for the camera. November can be that way.
Ah, but the return to the farmhouse was fabulous! Really fabulous!
You really are a true blue American consumer, aren't you... he marveled.
I admit it: I like to holiday shop for my family. I like bugging my kids for hints of what they or their spouses need. I like going "off list" with a few surprises, even though I'm sure they have some trepidation when I do this. (Consider the couple of years I moonlighted at l'Occitane: one girl eventually told me that she didn't care how good the discount, I really have to slow down with filling their drawers with tubes of hand cream.)
Today, of course, is America's big retail binge. But, like so many others, I had let my fingers do the walking/clicking and except for shopping that I always leave for myself for the December travels to the other side of the ocean, I'm done.
Still, there's grocery shopping! And so after breakfast...
... I coax Ed to tag along with me on this weekly ritual of mine. No, cheepers! You're staying home!
To Ed I say -- there are sure to be free samples at the store!
He comes.
There are no free samples.
He reads the paper in the cafe while I shop, happy to have him at least there, somewhere on the sidelines, like in the old days when I lived in the city, grocery shopped nearly every day and nearly always had him tagging along.
So why have we become such awful home bodies? Aside from walks -- and they're terribly proximate to the farmette -- we hardly ever venture out together. Remember daily afternoons at Paul's cafe? I can hardly believe we did that! Lunches at Pasqual's and dinners at Great Dane? A thing of the past.
I blame retirement (his, but especially mine) and winter. Those two forces have the strength of a gale wind to shut the door and keep us huddled inside. As I carry grocery bags into the farmhouse and the cheepers hover underfoot again, I'm thinking -- I'm sure glad I'm not like them, facing a winter of cold. Once I step inside the farmhouse, I do not have to go out!
But, the realization that we are so glued to our warm spaces gets to me and I propose another walk along the rural roads today. And Ed agrees.
And if ever you should commend us for being good sports about getting in that walk, it would be on this day -- gray, yes that, but also quite cold (I don't think it ever passed freezing). Just a couple of photos. It was hard to feel inspired to reach for the camera. November can be that way.
Ah, but the return to the farmhouse was fabulous! Really fabulous!
I love the novemberness of that first photo of the woods, all moody and dark. It makes one really want it to snow. (And soon enough, it will again, of course!) I am enjoying your musings on farmette life.
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