My husband and I realized with sorrow, yesterday, that the Thanksgiving leftovers are nearly gone. We’ve eaten our way through the special-occasion fuss-and-bother favorite foods. We’ve even finished the treats Cindy brought us a couple days after the feast—homemade sticky buns and pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Everything looked gorgeous and tasted so good. All that consoles us now is knowing Christmas is on the way.
The tidying up after Thanksgiving and house guests is still going on. We washed the dishes right away, of course, and returned the furniture to its normal locations. But I’ve spaced out the loads of laundry, lest the sight of all of it at once prove daunting. The newly washed table linens have yet to see the hot side of an iron. And I haven’t washed the kitchen floor.
I intended to wash it before guests arrived. I love the burnished look of the house when the hardwood gleams. But that task didn’t get checked off the list, and I’m just as glad. The spilling that went on last Thursday! I believe I was the one who started it off. I was chatting with Jack and B.J. while filling a vase for the flowers they’d brought, and Jack asked the origin of the large ceramic vase. “Potters Guild or Art Fair, I’m not sure.” Our daughter said she thought it might have been Potters Guild at the Art Fair. So I tipped it over to check the artist’s name on the bottom. That vase sure holds a lot of water.
The next liquid to go flying was St. Julian sparkling grape juice. I missed that portion of the festivities but understand it was spectacular. The spiller felt terrible about it but perked up some after learning how much water I’d just thrown across the room. For the final event in the spilling extravaganza, I knocked over a full bottle of the St. Julian that someone had, unbeknownst to me, set on the counter behind me. Yes, it did turn out to be red grape juice.
Who knew we had so many dishtowels? We’d used quite a few before the spilling started. We needed most of the rest afterward. It no longer seems like a bad thing that I failed to wash the kitchen floor ahead of all the activity. The house will definitely look better when that floor gleams again. The mountain of towels we used to keep it dry last Thursday constituted a load of laundry all by itself.
We’re engaging in leisure activity again. Years ago, my husband shared with me part of his approach to reading: have more than one book going at once. My friend Mary and I discussed this habit this morning, as we walked our dogs. “I have an upstairs book and a downstairs book,” I told her. “Sometimes I have three going at once,” she confessed. So I asked my husband just now how many books he’s reading. “Two,” he said, showing me the Little Free Library book in his hand and a regular library book on the table next to him. “No texts?” I queried. “Oh, yes,” he answered, “one on electromagnetics.”
Mary commented, as we walked today, that Rascal looked especially nice. “I think it’s the length of his fur,” I said. “When it’s really short, he looks like he should be named Ranger or Scout. After a while, he starts looking like it should be Little Bear. Now he looks more like a Muffin.” “We think Willie looks like a slug,” she said. “A slug?” I repeated. Willie is a sizable and notably furry two-year-old bundle of energy. “No, I meant to say woolly bear,” Mary laughed. “A woolly bear caterpillar.” “Biggest one I’ve ever seen,” I said. “It looks like we’re in for a very hard winter.”
Sue’s daughter named Sue’s new dog Vesta, goddess of hearth and home. Vesta is a sheltie. She had a family before. They loved her and couldn’t take care of her any more. The dog’s heart was clearly broken. Also, the dog hadn’t been trained beyond house training. When she came to live with Sue, Vesta quite literally didn’t know what to do with herself.
She’s come a long way since then. She can walk on a leash now. In fact, she loves going for walks. She’s come to recognize routines. She’s more confident. She knows her new name. And when I came to the door last week, she barked at me for the first time. She’s settled in enough to start living up to her name: she’s become the protector of her new hearth and home.
2 December 2022