I am soooo out of this blog routine - if ever there was one - so this will be a bit of a ramble.
Let's start with food. I am very happy with the way we are eating these days. I am mostly eating gluten, dairy, and sugar free. With the coming of the holidays, I am not going to worry myself about this too much. I may try a little gluten free baking, a cookie to have with hot cider when everyone else is enjoying a treat, but otherwise, I hardly seem to miss the baked goods. I eat a little good dark chocolate now and then, so I'm not a purist in the sugar department. I so enjoy our colorful mostly vegetable filled plates, though, that I rarely feel I want anything else.
We eat meals that look very much like
these that my dear friend cooks and serves. Simple, beautiful, healthy, flavorful. Tonight it's salmon and leftover wild rice from Thanksgiving (with figs and fresh sage and rosemary) some steamed broccoli, and my favorite raw beet salad with a ginger lime dressing.
I did do a bit of baking today, and when I came in from a walk in the woods, the house smelled of cinnamon and molasses, ginger and cloves. Cookies and a loaf cake, along with
Russian tea are on their way to college boys who have exams in the next few days.
We had a wonderful trip to Virginia for Thanksgiving. With children spread so far and wide, I savor every bit of time with them. Time for good conversations about important things (like marriage and future plans); time for games and jokes and cooking together; time for a family outing; time to just sit and knit while they play Dominion or watch football. I just want to soak up their presence and want everything to always be perfect ... which, of course, it isn't. One child was quite sick with a nasty cold, there was mild dissension over who was going to do what when and where and with whom and a bit of wrangling over an open afternoon, but the sick son was lovingly cared for and the afternoon plans were discussed, decided upon, and enjoyed. (We went to Mt. Vernon) And then, way too soon, it was time for another trip to the airport and good-bye hugs at 4:30 in the morning and a six hour drive back the other direction.
But isn't it good to come home? I think so.
I moved my little old chair (that desperately needs to be reupholstered) into the kitchen/eating area by the windows. I light a candle, make a good cup of black coffee, and sit there in the morning to read. Everyone loves to sit there now, including, of course, the cat.
I am a sort of a wimp when it comes to cold weather. It may have something to do with my size, but I am cold all winter. So, thinking about hopping on my bike when it's below 50 degrees or so is not my idea of a good time, though I know it
is a very good workout. I've just got to get the right winter cycling gear. Coty biked all through the winter last year and now that my ankle is so much better, I want to overcome my aversion to cold weather cycling. The hard part is that first half mile.
I'm back at the aquatic center for long lap swimming through the winter. Sometimes my 9 year old friend, Noelle, goes along, too. It's fun to have her company. She's such a little athlete - reminds me of the tomboy I used to be ... and kind of still am.
I am sewing and knitting, but of course, can't show you a thing. It will just have to wait.
I love skype conversations with my granddaughter. They almost always now include storytelling. I ask who she wants to have in the story and it comes out like this, "meandalltheguysinthehundredacrewood, and Sadie and Biscuit and Marmalade and baby Joy (her doll) and my baby brother (who is not born yet, but I can tell you, he's already had some interesting adventures). You can figure out that first part. Clara had to repeat it for me several times before I understood, but now I know to include Piglet, Pooh, Christopher Robin, and various other assorted A.A. Milne characters. Sadie is Clara's real live dog, a very sweet-tempered, long-suffering mutt; Biscuit is an imaginary puppy that appeared for the first time in a story this summer on our long drive from Denver to Winnett. Marmalade is an orange tabby. I've thought for a while that if our good old cat, Madison, ever used up the last of his nine lives, I might get an orange tabby whose name, of course, would be Marmalade. I make up the stories as I go along. I usually ask for a prompt. Today, Clara wanted them to do something dangerous ... hunting, she said. So, they all went along to the woods, climbed up in a blind, the cat fell down to the wolf below but was rescued and there was a venison dinner for all at the end.
