A quiet, empty house

I'm feeling a little pensive tonight. My house is quiet and empty after having Jacob here for three days. Even Sophie has chosen to be outside instead of in with me. Jacob's gone to visit his grandparents in Coppell--they are so much better than I am about taking him to football practice and the like. He'll have a good time, and it's good that he's there, but I miss him. He was all dressed up this morning because his class was going to Bass Hall to see a performance of the Nutcracker. At the last moment, he decided against his tie (it was a different shade of red, and I thought the decision wise). I did not make him tuck his shirt in, as his parents would have--I think it looks dorky. The hardest part of having him was making sure he was fed, dressed, teeth brushed, (who cares about that curly mop?) and out the door on time--the school is across the street and I watch until he gets to the crossing guard.
We had good moments in our three days--I realized he's spoiled and wants to eat out every night. We went to the Grill one night and to Lucile's another. Last night he was distinctly disappointed when I said we were staying home--but he settled for scrambled eggs (I almost made an omelet because I turned away for a moment too long). At Lucile's he wanted to taste lobster, so I gave him one tiny bite from my pot pie. He tasted it and announced next time he would order lobster (this child has a supreme disregard for cost). When I asked if he wanted another tiny bite, he said no thank you. Doesn't bode well for a future order of lobster.
Tonight for my solitary dinner I made salmon cakes (a favorite of mine--eating them is enhanced by anticipation of a sandwich with mayo and lemon tomorrow) and zucchini vegetti. A friend gave me a spiral thing that turns vegetables into spaghetti--I sauté the zucchini with a bit of butter-flavored olive oil, salt and pepper. A good dinner--and I could read while I ate.
Tonight I read a seasonal letter from a fellow Guppy that really resonated with me. She quoted Ursula Le Guin who predicted hard times are coming, times in which we will need artists and writers while we live in the grip of capitalism. But she reminded human resistance can change things, and change often begins in art. "The name of our beautiful reward is not profit. It is freedom."
The writer of the message went on to say the two things she thought most important are to take care of our planet and not pollute it--sometimes I think we're already too late in coming to that conclusion, but it is so vital. And we need to see all people on our planet as equally human. I wanted to rise up and cheer, though these are two cardinal principles that are being trodden into the dirt right now. It all reminded me of William Faulkner's speech (when we all thought that atomic bombs would wipe life from the planet). Faulkner believed that man would not only survive but will prevail. I have to believe that too, just as I have to believe that Le Guin is right--we need artists and writers in our lives now.
It makes me wonder if what I write is frivolous--and there's a bit of me that vows to change that.
Okay, pensive mood over.