Because, looking back, some of the things I did poorly are as nice as the things I did well. I really ought to be more diligent about staying in touch, though.
Seven things I did well in 2008:
1. cut my bangs well
2. baked Adam’s birthday cake well
3. stood by my friends through a rough time well
4. wrote the first part of a novel well
5. fried green tomatoes well
6. ate well
7. worked well
8. wore out my shoes walking well
Seven things I did rather poorly in 2008:
1. did the dishes poorly
2. kept in touch poorly
3. wrote the second part of the novel poorly
4. wrote wonderful little poems poorly
5. baked lots of loaves of bread poorly
6. grew tomatoes poorly
7. kept up with the laundry poorly
8. made a good deal of curry poorly
Tag! You’re it! What are your eight for 2008?
The two best New Years resolutions I ever made (and the only ones I remember):
- Spend at least 30 minutes outside every day.
-Watch the sunset every night.
What were your best resolutions?
I’m a day late. But a very merry Christmas to you all.
“Do you want to know what I got your for Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Go to:
http://lindseysgift.com
(click through, if you want to see what he got for me)
Adam is wonderful. And the best bloke in the world for me.
“Don’t start walking to work yet. We might be closing early.”
I swept the floor and hung bells over the table for Christmastime. Music, light, nuts, spice, and citrus: these things are Christmas things to me.
I have a little floppy notebook I take with me places. Mostly, it is filled with strange lists. Never what to do. Often story ideas, things I like, vegetables people remind me of. I wrote a list in late November as I ached for the light and beauty of December:
-advent wreath
-good smells
-gingerbread
-almond cookies
-oranges
-orange cake
-candlelight
-twinkle
-cinnamon buns
-lusekatter
-Christmas movies
-Christmas cards
-St. Nicks Day
-Advent dinners
And…excited though I was, I dropped the ball on most of this. But there have been a couple movies. There has been cake and cookies and nuts. There has been gingerbread, and oh yes, there has been twinkle. And, really, I think the twinkle was the most important part. Especially when the day fades and the string of lights by the window illuminates the foil stars and I light the candles by the berry-covered branches Tiffany gave me, and Adam lights a fire. And tonight, maybe we’ll eat below jingle bells.
My, how the light shines in the darkness.
What brings twinkle to your dark December days? What are your favourite handmade seasonal decorations?
It seems all I want to do these days is read. When I get home from work I want to read. When I wake up I want to read. I forget to eat lunch because I’m reading, and even postpone my favourite meal of the day a few hours to finish a chapter or two. I just want to read and write and drink coffee. I want to scratch out a song on the cello and write and read and read and make tea. I want to read on the couch and on the floor and in bed. I want to read in the morning, the afternoon, and at night. I want to get a glass of orange juice and read and write and rub Eliot’s belly and read and scratch out a bit of a song on the cello and forget lunch and then remember.
In with December came winter. I was blessed this morning with an early rise and a late start, so I filled my quiet morning to my delight with candles and books and pajamas and pecans and egg nog while the snow covered the streets and the tree outside my window. I prepped for this evening’s dinner as the grey morning bega to blossom into a white afternoon. I am watching a bird nibble away at the frozen berries on the branches. It looks like the first big snowfall in Madison. It’s beautiful.
This afternoon, I will work with my hands and make coffee, then come home to a warm supper and a warm husband and I’ll scribble away at my book until bed.
I’m thankful in this season of my life for the riches of quiet and simplicity. Ribbons strung along bookshelves, radio shows, favourite books, sweeping, cooking, working, walking. There is no place I would rather be.
I was, at some point, going to write more about Thanksgiving. But the first peice of chocolates are missing from our advent calenders and the first bits of Christmas decorations are finding their way out of drawers. The bowl on the table is filled with clementines. It’s December, and in this dark time of year, people’s windows are draped in lights and bellies are warmed with sweets. I like it.
The wheels in my head are turning slowing, mulling ober things to put on the walls, treats to bake, traditions to begin. What are your favourite Christmas traditions? How did you spend your christmases before you had children?
When I think of Thanksgiving, the first thing I hear is Aunt Ann’s voice coming from the kitchen. She is setting things on the counter or washing dishes and talking about some funny bit of news. Then I hear Nana laughing from the table. The girl cousins are laughing, too, and I see their faces. I see little Charlotte in her dress running to and frow with Aunt Katy not far behind and the men watching football in the living room. I see Daphne’s pies and remember the old stories we like to tell over and over. Nana and Aunt Gretchen tell the best old stories. Aunt Nora and Heather tell the best new ones. And Pete and Daphne’s stories, they are always warm like bread. When I think about Thanksgiving, Uncle Jack asks, again, if I want something to drink, the kind and gracious host. Uncle Ed is making a joke, Uncle Al is messing about with his camera, and Papa is sitting in a chair eating a piece of pie, watching and listening. The other boys are in the basement. When we were young and it was summer, we would jump on the trampoline while the grown-ups watched from behind the windows. Cousin Chris could do flips. We would sit around the edge, close to the springs and watch him jumping high above us.
I am thankful for family and Aunt Ann’s voice and the old stories I want to hear over and over and over.
