Sometimes I tempt fate. I mean, after feeling so terribly ill after Thanksgiving, you'd think I'd back off touching anything resembling food I had eaten this past week. But no: last night, Ed and I sat down to a delicious dinner of leftovers. The whole works -- from turkey to pie. After all, the whole purpose of cooking all day Thursday is so that you don't have to touch a single pot on Friday. All those post holiday recipes for Thanksgiving leftovers? Whatever for! Just pile your plate high with all your favorites, stick it in the microwave for 2 mins and 45 seconds and voila! Thanksgiving redux!
This brings me to an article I just read about feeling gratitude. The author asserts that we don't practice gratefulness on a daily basis. I have to disagree. I don't know where your thoughts fly as you stand under a hot shower on a November morning, but mine nearly always include a moment of appreciation for that good feeling of warmth -- an appreciation for this miraculous flow of warm water! Heavenly. And as Ed and I sit in our favorite spots on the couch each evening, I can't help but think how good it is to be in this quiet and warm environment.
I suppose it comes from too many stays in places where you could hear the noise of your neighbors. Stays in the village house where only one room (the kitchen) felt really warm in the winter. Or even in bed and breakfasts in the cold seasons, where the floors were chilly and the room never quite felt toasty enough. And if you've done laundry by hand too many times, you surely will sing words of praise every time you stuff your washer with muddied pants and stained shirts. I do.
And breakfast. With fresh fruit. In November! And with flowers! It could never, ever get boring.
We work outside again -- I for less time than Ed, but still, it is lovely to spread chips on the front flower bed (it gets severely damaged each year by the voluminous amounts of salt on our winter roads). And to admire the lights on the house from the outside. Faint in the daytime, but visible nonetheless!
And in the evening, Snowdrop comes for a sleepover!
We haven't made pizza together in a long time. Today is the perfect day for it. Let's get to work! First, let's shape the dough. Oh, those grand kid words -- I can do it! I can throw it in the air!
Let's just stretch it instead.
The best part for her is laying on her favorite topping. Snowdrop, just on your half of the pizza, okay? Ours is garlic and mushrooms. There was a time when she would have been okay with that. These days, she has her preferences.
Ten minutes later, it's ready.
Oh, the fun one can have with a pizza slice! The crunch, the pull...
Young and old...
It's all pure magic.
Games follow. Her preferred one for tonight: "the kids are making a mess: what's a person to do?"
I throw out solutions, she rejects them all. The "kids" are rambunctious. I see a bit of projection here. Time to settle down into a cozy read. Which of course lasts way too long. But that's what sleepovers are like: you play, you stay up too long and you never, ever sleep late the next day!
This brings me to an article I just read about feeling gratitude. The author asserts that we don't practice gratefulness on a daily basis. I have to disagree. I don't know where your thoughts fly as you stand under a hot shower on a November morning, but mine nearly always include a moment of appreciation for that good feeling of warmth -- an appreciation for this miraculous flow of warm water! Heavenly. And as Ed and I sit in our favorite spots on the couch each evening, I can't help but think how good it is to be in this quiet and warm environment.
I suppose it comes from too many stays in places where you could hear the noise of your neighbors. Stays in the village house where only one room (the kitchen) felt really warm in the winter. Or even in bed and breakfasts in the cold seasons, where the floors were chilly and the room never quite felt toasty enough. And if you've done laundry by hand too many times, you surely will sing words of praise every time you stuff your washer with muddied pants and stained shirts. I do.
And breakfast. With fresh fruit. In November! And with flowers! It could never, ever get boring.
We work outside again -- I for less time than Ed, but still, it is lovely to spread chips on the front flower bed (it gets severely damaged each year by the voluminous amounts of salt on our winter roads). And to admire the lights on the house from the outside. Faint in the daytime, but visible nonetheless!
And in the evening, Snowdrop comes for a sleepover!
We haven't made pizza together in a long time. Today is the perfect day for it. Let's get to work! First, let's shape the dough. Oh, those grand kid words -- I can do it! I can throw it in the air!
Let's just stretch it instead.
The best part for her is laying on her favorite topping. Snowdrop, just on your half of the pizza, okay? Ours is garlic and mushrooms. There was a time when she would have been okay with that. These days, she has her preferences.
Ten minutes later, it's ready.
Oh, the fun one can have with a pizza slice! The crunch, the pull...
Young and old...
It's all pure magic.
Games follow. Her preferred one for tonight: "the kids are making a mess: what's a person to do?"
I throw out solutions, she rejects them all. The "kids" are rambunctious. I see a bit of projection here. Time to settle down into a cozy read. Which of course lasts way too long. But that's what sleepovers are like: you play, you stay up too long and you never, ever sleep late the next day!
