Not enough hours

The seasonal madness is upon me and the hurrier I go, the behinder I get. But there is progress. The lights are finally up in the front of the house. M also collared me yesterday morning and proposed that we should hang a huge wreath between the bedroom windows on the second storey and maybe we should get some wreaths to hang from the front porch railings. And oh, maybe we should get something to put where the flower baskets hang during the summer. And well, maybe we should put some lights on the weeping cherry tree. Great ideas, I said. Good, you go get the wreaths, she said. I walked right into that one. But she paid for half. I just needed to do the legwork. That’s okay. It’s become tradition. And I can’t complain. I could have been blessed, for example, with a neighbor with a liking for huge inflatable Christmas decorations in the front yard.

I also finally finished making a hearty soup/stew out of the broth I’d extracted from the Thanksgiving turkey carcass last week. I knew I wasn’t going to get to it until later this week so froze the broth. It smelled like Thanksgiving in this house last night. The lad had to go up to school for work on the drama production last evening and when he walked back in the door he almost melted in a puddle. A steaming bowl of the soup hit the spot. I’d also made another cheesecake while he was out, so he felt as if the heavens had opened up and dropped treasures right in his lap.

There is the old saying that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I’d take that further and say that a happy stomach turns a fellow into a benevolent fellow. After he’d filled himself up with all that goodness, he got up and went outside to bring a load of wood in the house without my even suggesting it. In the rain. I was so surprised. But he gave me a big hug and said, “It’s the least I could do after that meal.” A fully loaded wood rack is a direct route into my heart, let me tell you.

So now my thoughts turn to Christmas shopping. And who is the first on my list? Terry. I may have found the first ever indestructible squeaker toy. Terry loves squeaky toys, but they usually don’t last more than 5 minutes. No exaggeration. If this one lasted a half an hour it would be a tremendous improvement. But evidently this one is made to last and last and last—with the most determined dogs in mind.

And while I browsed that web site, these pet steps totally cracked me up. We do the funniest things for our pets. But it’s the photograph that is priceless. If the dog came with the steps, I’d be really tempted.

The lad asked me yesterday what I’d like for Christmas. Honestly? A year’s supply of 26 hour days. Don’t think I’m gonna get ‘em though.