The pre-holiday do-nothings

Ever notice that when a major holiday, like Thanksgiving, approaches, most if not all the concerns of your daily living go on hold? I remember it from days when I fed the hordes on turkey day. Today I feed no one; I simply eat and enjoy the love. But I still feel that sense of putting life in abeyance. My son will be here tomorrow to take me to Tomball, so, logically, I frittered away the day.

This morning, a good friend came for coffee and a chat, much enjoyed. This afternoon, another friend dropped by with a loaf of persimmon bread, which will make delicious breakfasts for me. In between, I kept up with some computer work, did a bit of packing and figuring things out, and read a lot. I’m reading a book to critique for a competition—it’s a bit hard because the books is print, and I am much more comfortable reading on the screen with my eye problem. Who ever thought I’d say that? An earlier book I had to critique was available on Kindle at a low price. But this one, by co-authors I’ve never heard of and from a publisher I’ve never head of, is close to $12 on Kindle. Since I do this as a public service, I’m not about to pay that—so I muddle through, reading a bit until my vision blurs, looking away, and reading more.

That reading is part of my urge to contribute to the greater good. I’m all too aware that I don’t do charity work for my church, for the local homeless shelters, for any of a lot of good causes. So, I do what I can—I’m active in an online writers group that actively works to encourage new writers; I edit my neighborhood newsletter and have a sinking feeling I may take over the web work; I give to Heifer International, the Humane Society, and similar groups, using those gifts as Christmas and birthday gifts. My theory is that each of us can and must reach beyond ourselves, reach out to make the world a bit better somehow. Over the years I’ve tried a lot of charitable work offers, from running an information cart on the littering of our oceans and beaches at a local museum to wearing a pink apron at a hospital. Nothing really satisfied. I guess I’m still looking, but the newsletter is a way to put my special skill to work for a good cause.

Last night, I said to Jordan that I was going to make myself creamed ham and new potatoes: she made a face. When Jean came by this morning, I said it again, and she made a face. But when Jeannie came by tonight, I repeated it, and she said, “Ooh, I want to come over here for dinner.”

I had a slice of good ham in the freezer and defrosted a small piece of it; boiled three tiny new potatoes and let them chill before trying to peel; chopped celery and green onion; dumped in more baby green peas than I meant, but, hey, it was the end of the package. Sautéed all that in butter, sprinkled a tablespoon more or less of flour on it, and stirred in milk until I had a nice, think sauce. Seasoned it with salt and pepper and finished it with a good dollop of sour cream. After the first bite, I had to go back to add salt, but it was delicious. Enough left for lunch tomorrow, if I add some grated cheese, which sounds really good to me. Ah, yes, somedays I want to activate that microwave that’s in my closet—not enough counter space.

Tomorrow, my oldest child will arrive about 1:30, with two of my grandchildren. We’ll load the car and head back to Tomball. Color me excited.