The last day of November
already! Tomorrow Jacob and I can start the Advent Calendar. He reminded me of
it the other day. This year the one I bought is set in Edinburgh so I’m hoping
for lots of bagpipe music, which always thrills my Scottish bones. It’s
installed on my computer and ready for that first click. I know Jacob’s at that
in-between age—too old and yet not old enough, but he seems willing to do the
calendar with me, and I’m delighted.
Just stole a quick
after-supper nap. Delightful to lie in bed and listen to the thunder rumble. We
are under a tornado watch until midnight, but Jordan said the rain would miss
us which set me to wondering if you can have a tornado without rain, Now I
notice the deck and the sidewalks are wet—rain apparently but not much of it.
Sophie jumped up on the bed for a snuggle—she senses when I’m getting up and
waits until that moment to come for a bit of doggy love.
I can already tell
Christmas is coming. The traffic is horrible. Jordan and I went to the grocery
this morning, and the congestion on Hulen was enough to make you turn around
and go home. We took longer than usual at the store, because I had a longer list—the
price one pays (literally) for cooking more. And then we were running late and
were in a rush at the liquor store and the take-out place for lunch. I came away
with chicken salad and a beet-and-orange salad for my lunch and a shepherd’s
pie for supper. All delicious. Hats off to Local Foods Kitchen.
Tonight, without
rushing, we went for a glass of wine with a friend of many years—the kind of
friend where we each remember when the other’s children were toddlers. And now
those children are in their forties, pushing fifty. It’s fun to see Jordan develop
a relationship with her as an adult. Nancy has more Christmas decorations than
anyone I ever met—nutcrackers and angels and ceramic Santas, pillows and an
iron Christmas tree with ornaments hung on it. Her cozy apartment was warm with
holiday atmosphere, and we laughed and talked, shared good news and worries.
And then we hurried home again.
Tomorrow Jacob
takes the SAT in a program to see how randomly selected seventh graders do
taking the test that all high schoolers fear. What a shock to think he’s
anywhere near ready for that. And here I was going to ask him to do mundane
things like empty the garbage. I think it’s fun though that he doesn’t worry
beforehand, doesn’t have to study—can just walk in and take it. I haven’t had a
chance to ask him if he thinks it’s fun or not. Probably not.
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