Change is always hard on us humans, and no one ever said it was easy to go from Daylight Savings Time to Central Standard. I for one am among those who would like to have Daylight Savings all the time. I feel a little less joyful when it gets dark at five o’clock in the evening, and I wish for the long twilights of summer. But change we did, as we must, and I think everyone was a little off today.
In fact, Sophie was the only one unaffected. Listening to her biological clock, she awoke promptly at seven this morning, which yesterday would have been eight. Fortunately, she is inclined to go out first thing in the morning, do her business, and come right back in, at which point she heads for the warm bed I have just vacated. But this morning, I didn’t vacate—I went back to doze and linger.
Time change is always hard too because of clocks. We are fortunate today that all our internet-connected clocks change automatically—computer, watch, telephone—but I have a digital bedside clock and a wall-hung thermometer/clock that have to be changed manually. And from season to season, we all forget how we did it last time. Tonight, Jacob and Christian worked long and hard and finally got it done, though we have not been able, since last spring, to restore the part of the thermometer/clock that tells the outside temperature. The clock in my car remains to be changed, but I can do that easily.
With all this change, church this morning was soothing. It being All Saints Sunday, the traditional parts of the service—prayer, offertory, communion, and scripture reading—were fit into the nine parts of the Duruflé Requiem. It was a service of music, no sermon, and, as usual at my church, the music was magnificent. As I sat there, surrounded by glorious sound, I felt the words of that old hymn, “It is well with my soul.” The musical petition for eternal rest everlasting was reassuring, somehow diminishing the fear of that great unknown.
Of course Christian and I got our wires crossed even about church. Jordan was out of town, but I had told him the service was all music. He somehow thought I meant we shouldn’t go, whereas I told him because I was really looking forward to it. We somehow got that straightened out but not until nine this morning.
My big accomplishment this weekend: baking homemade chocolate chip cookies. My friend Carol asked at least twice if I did then “from scratch,” and I assured her I did. I used the stand-by Nestles recipe and, ironically, read yesterday that Nestles has had to recall their ready-to-bake chocolate chip dough. Great timing. But everything went wrong—I didn’t have quite enough white sugar, so I eye-balled increasing the brown; having measured out the dry ingredients into a bowl, I turned to unpacking groceries, and cavalierly flung an orange toward the fruit bowl—knocking over the dry ingredients, part of which landed on the floor. Aside from cleaning the mess, I was left with the dilemma of figuring out how much flour, salt, and baking soda I’d dumped. I finally decided to ignore the salt and soda and judge the flour by the stiffness of the dough. I ended up not adding any more, and the cookies got the ultimate compliment tonight: Unasked, Jacob volunteered, “Juju, the cookies were good.” When I quizzed, he admitted to liking oatmeal/raisin, so that’s next on my list.
Last night, Carol and I had dinner at La Madeleine—beef in gravy with Parmesan potatoes—and tonight I made carnitas—pork roast cubed and boiled with seasonings, served with cilantro, onion, sour cream, avocado. Once again, a bountiful weekend.
And I have my work on my desk all in order in my mind for tomorrow. Going to sleep feeling blessed. Hope you are tool