Christmas was nice and warm and strange and perfect, despite a clogged kitchen sink (the plumber will be here at 1:00) and a weird stomach thing. (I’m not sure if I’m ill or if I’ve just made too many bad choices. I keep telling myself it’s the bad choices. Weird layer dips covered in apple cranberry French toast washed down with instant coffee and spinkled with snickerdoodles. Why am I eating like such a jerk?)
The girls would probably not agree with me, but I think this was yesterday’s gift of the day:
My sister had one when I was a kid and it seemed larger and sturdier, but this one will do just fine. A lot of people in my life talk about how the day is coming when we will no longer have electricity and all hell will break loose. When that happens, we will have our labyrinth. (Clarification: When I say WE will no longer have electricity, I don’t mean just the Fluid Pudding family. To my knowledge, we are up to date on all of our payments. With that said, the thought of all hell breaking loose just because I don’t have electricity but everyone else does is sort of funny. And then it feels sort of sad and dirty because more than half of the world population does NOT have electricity, and here I stand plugging in a mixer because I can’t be bothered to stir.)
One of my goals in the coming (insert obscure reference of time here) is to improve my handwriting style. Yesterday I received a flex nib pen, and I’ve been playing with it nonstop. I’m like an adult with a new pen over here, because I’m an adult who has a new pen.
Although it felt strange to receive a gift of massage oil from my 8-year-old daughter, it was actually the most thoughtful gift of all. It’s the season of dry skin, and I sometimes have days when I can feel the weight of the lotion. On those days, I can dive into this. Figuratively.
Enjoy your week between. (Someday I hope to get a call from a person who whispers, “Hey. Make a batch of apple cranberry French toast and get to such and such street. John Roderick is telling stories, and the price of admission is breakfast food.”)