Pray, Indeed

We had Thanksgiving dinner last night. The idea, at first, seemed a little silly, but as a houseguest, who am I to object to my hostess's meal plans? 

What started out as a simple roasted turkey breast soon included mashed potatoes and turnips. "All we're missing is the stuffing," Heidi's mom said, but since I knew there was a sliced batard in the bread box, that was quickly remedied. A can of cranberry sauce in the pantry completed the menu, and the five of us sat down to Thanksgiving in July. 

"It's my favorite meal of the year," her mom told us, and considering that the five of us are never together for that holiday, it seemed like a new tradition was being established. As we ate, I heard my own mother's voice singing one of the many little songs she had for every occasion. 

And pray, how could anyone ever be cross, 

with turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce?

The Sun is Not Sunny

The damp air is temperate and mild, as the dogs and I sit outside on this rainy, rainy day in Buffalo. A steady patter of drops on the yellow and white striped awning over my head is pleasant enough, and the light filtering through the solid cloud cover paints the yard an exquisite green, flooding the eyes and filling the heart. But the forecast? That it will be like this all week, the entire time we are here? Raises a tempest of concern.

Oh Thank Heaven

Quite often the estimated travel time from our home to Heidi's parents' is seven hours and eleven minutes, just as it was today. The distance is always 387 miles, and although we could drive straight through on a single tank of gas, we usually make one stop to stretch our aging legs and let the three of us pee, just as we did today. And usually? We can make the time up somewhere on the shaded mountain roads of the Allegheny State Forest, assuming we can avoid a logging truck or fracking tanker. If not, then I-99 or NY 219 is always a good bet to nudge the cruise control up a notch so that we can pull into the driveway in 7:11, just as we did today.

I See You, Summer

A thunderstorm rolled in this afternoon. Complete with high winds, lightning, sideways torrents of rain, and those peals of thunder you feel in your belly, it was a 20 minute wonder, good for the garden and landscaping (which looks fabulous around here). I was cleaning house at the time, dusting and wiping and mopping and vacuuming, but I paused to admire the torrents of rain sluicing down the driveway when a warm blast of positively tropical air blew in through the kitchen window I insist on keeping six inches open. And then? It was over. A late afternoon sun shone golden through the misty air, the pool reopened, and I sliced some tomatoes for dinner.

Decoration Negotiation

Years ago, I asked a friend for some fashion advice while shopping. "Do these match?" I held up a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"They don't match, but they go," she answered, and my perspective was considerable widened. But the idea that things could be put together in a complimentary way without matching exactly did not fit my casual approach to dressing and decorating as easily as one might think. 

"Matching" is a yes or no question, but considering shades and colors and patterns in a more nuanced way requires some consideration. The absence of, pardon the pun, black and white rules can also make it difficult to agree with someone else about what goes together and what does not. 

And...

I think I'll leave it at that.

Family Matters? No Comment

"Who even reads your blog?" my neighbor asked today.

"Well," I shrugged, "my mom used to..." I trailed off, unwilling to explain why she doesn't anymore. "But," I continued brightly, "my brother and sister read it every day. And my friend Mary is also a loyal reader. And there are a few others who read from time to time."

"I can't believe your brother and sister read it every day! My brother would never read anything I wrote," she scoffed.

I thought it best to remain silent.

That's Why We Call It Practice

We were chatting with neighbors at the pool today when the topic of food and activity tracking came up. "We use MFP," Heidi said.

"It's great because it has so many foods in the data base," I added.

"I just think it might be hard to do it regularly," our friend sighed.

Heidi nodded sympathetically. "Tracey is really good at it, though," she reported.

"True," I confirmed. "I actually haven't missed a single day since May 2, 2015."

Our neighbors were stunned. 

"That's nothing!" Heidi said. "Tell them about your blog."

"I have posted my blog every day since March 1, 2009," I told them. "And I do this other thing where I post a selfie every day. That's been happening since December 2014."

I couldn't tell if they were impressed or convinced that there was something wrong with me. "It's just what I do to keep going," I said. "One day off and I'd probably quit."

"How do you find the time?" somebody asked. "What if you get busy or something?"

I thought about it a minute. "It probably doesn't take more than 30 minutes to do those things," I answered. "And to be honest, coming up with an idea to write about is the hardest part, so, thanks for that!" I laughed. "I don't always love what I wrote, but I am always happy when it's done."