I really do not like finishing a good book. I hugely do not like finishing the sixth and final book by an author whose work carried me through most of December. Where do I go now to lose myself to the world? Oh, and to top it off, I finished the dog puzzle, so I no longer have pieces of this pooch or that one to look for. No funny and clever book, no poochie puzzle -- is it time to face the reality of the everyday? So long as there's a Henry to come wake me in the morning with his gentle and wet snout, I will not complain. Too, I haven't run through my list of stupid (but not totally asinine) holiday movies yet, so there are plenty of hours to indulge my inner escapism.
But back to Henry: it's just at freezing this morning. You can tell, right?
I am very glad I live in a place that strictly enforces clean-up-after-your-pet rules (if they find your animal's excrement anywhere near the building you get fined $300 -- they use DNA testing to prove who is the culprit). There's nothing worse, aesthetically speaking, than the sight of melting dirty snow and ancient mounds of dog stuff on the ground. Here, people are scrupulous! It's much more pleasant to greet the morning without the strips of grass looking like a public loo for pooches. And it's easier to walk your dog too. I remember when I lived in Poland in the 1960s and had to walk the family dog in the month of March. I hated it. The city of Warsaw at her worst, before the rains washed things up a bit.
Here, I do really love going out with Henry. And I hope one day I will calm him down enough so that he wont have to bark at approaching strangers. (Luckily there aren't many approaching strangers before 7 a.m.)
Breakfast. Still finishing up the book. Winter gives us permission to read more. What's there not to love?
Ah, Henry! I'm coming over for a hug and a snuggle.
In between the delightful stuff, I spent hours, hours searching for a fondue set that wouldn't break the budget and, importantly, could be delivered before Christmas. Putting in a search of "fondue set near me" yielded bizarre results, but I pursued every single one of them. It's my fault, really, for not thinking of it sooner. We do fondue on Christmas Eve. Everyone has their traditions and this one has been ours for decades, even though it makes no sense -- beef, on the day you're supposed to eat none?
I have an old trusty fondue pot, but last year I bowed to the pescatarian among us and bought cheeses for an additional cheese fondue. Unfortunately, there was no second workable fondue pot, so I'll admit that this was just one big disaster. I had thought that the absence of a second pot had been remedied. I don't know why I thought that. Last night it struck me that I should ask. Nope, no second pot. Why didn't I check earlier? Because I was too busy reading books and doing jigsaw puzzles.
I called every imaginable place that might carry such pots and I visited in person Macy's, Target, Sur la Table, World Market, and Michaels -- this last one only because it was next to the World Market. Sold out everywhere.
The Home Depot website (but not the store) had a cheap one that they claimed could be delivered on the 24th. I ordered it without any confidence that it will come on time. So I ordered a second one from Walmart -- also with a promise of free delivery by the 24th. I'll let you know which, if any of those two big box stores will meet their obligation. I do not want to waste all that Gruyere and Emmentaler.
And yes, I went shopping for cheeses and potatoes and other such accoutrements, trying not to think too much about the possibility of a second Eve of failure.
Do you wonder why I felt that it was imperative for me to lose myself in my novel after my mad shopping dash? Henry is in doggie daycare of course. He is not welcome in Macy's, Target, Sur la Table, the World Market, or Michaels and certainly not in the grocery store. Sigh... this isn't France, Henry. Besides, you still tend to bark at strangers. It tends to wreck people's holiday cheer to have a big dog (and I mean big) bark in a deep baritone voice at them. You're no soft soprano, you know.
Other ambitious projects? Well, I vacuumed the balcony. You should see the mess the birds made out there! And I have a message for the bird store that sold me a "clean seed brick:" it's not clean. I see sunflower seed shells. Birds do not eat shells. Even I know that.
On my way to pick up Henry, I stop to say hi to the young family, back from their family trip to visit other grandparents.
And I pick up a joyful Henry. He is the last one to leave (sorry, Henry!), so I have a few minutes to chat with the daycare staff. The way they talk about my pup is just so heartwarming. I know they love him. I can see that. Henry's circle of love is widening and that makes me so happy.
(am I the only one thinking that the couch is getting to be too small for Henry?)
And all is good with my small world again. Just Henry and me, and a pot of simmering veggie soup on the stove.
with so much love...
