Monday, 17 December 2012
Monday twaddle . . .
Winter came down to our home one night
Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,
And we, we were children once again.
~Bill Morgan, Jr.
Not much falling in the way of snow here . . . no pirouetting silver toed slippers . . . tis more like bumbling galoshes, squelching across the sodden lawn . . .
But . . . that is England.
I've been oversleeping these past few mornings. Obviously I am much in need of it. There is a morning routine I follow . . . I am usually up by 5 or 5:30 and downstairs . . . being greeted by my black silken eared and silver tailed friend. She is so happy to see me each morning, and not the least because she knows a treat can't be too far behind. She is like me . . . she loves her treats. She is my close companion throughout my day, as she follows me here and there through the house, always gliding along with me . . . close by my side . . . her warm presence wrapping itself around me like the little hug that she is.
I love her so, our dear little Mitzie. I don't know quite what I will do with hands that don't smell of her frequent kisses . . . I'm not sure who I will miss more when I am off to Canada in a few weeks . . . I expect it will be a sad mix of both my loves. However will they get on without me?? I worry that Todd will not eat properly . . . or that Mitzie will forget me. I know that neither of those things will happen, but I still worry about them.
It will seem strange to get on with the work of the day without that little black snout investigating my every move and those little brown eyes soulfully accompanying me wherever I go . . . without the exasperated sighs of boredom that tell me I've been too long on the computer, and where is her breakfast.
Then too . . . I'll miss my morning Todd-hugs, accompanied by that little black furry body and black velvet nose which skilfully tries to get in between us. It is a triage of love in the morning when Todd comes down the stairs . . . I am so blessed.
I cannot believe it is a week before Christmas and I still have not put up one decoration, or even bought Todd's Christmas Present. Oh . . . I have probably bought him several Christmas Presents . . . and given them to him straight away. I am so bad . . . I cannot wait. My joy comes in the giving, and I am such a greedy gus . . . I want to experience that joy right away. I shall have to go into town one day this week and buy something, and then tape my mouth shut and sit on my hands . . .
I had thought to go in today . . . but the practical side of me says I must stay home and tidy up and put up at least a few decorations. And . . . I need to bake cookies and finish the book illustrations and there are about a billion other chores that need doing.
Christmas will come whether I decorate or not . . . so I had better do so . . . today.
The sun is coming up over the rooftops of the houses across the street now. I still get excited at the sight of chimney pots. That was one of the first things that stole my heart when I arrived over here . . . the sight of chimney pots. Just like in Mary Poppins . . . for all the world looking as if each chimney wears a small stone hat. They cheer my heart . . . and make me smile. Oh yes . . . I am a strange one . . . a gal who thrills at the sight of stone chimney pots and the feel of cobbles beneath my feet . . . whose heart gives a little skip of joy each time the Westminster chimes sound, as our wall clock here in the lounge strikes the hour . . . and who has come to love the Northern greeting of . . . "Y'aright?"
I have come to embrace rain at Christmas instead of snow . . . although in truth it would thrill me so . . . however inconvenient it might be to those who drive. Oh, and speaking of snow . . . you must click here, and then put in your address. It will snow for you. Tis amazing. My dear friends Sybil and Mary sent it to me and I thought it was amazing. You put in your address and immediately you are looking out your window and snow is falling. There are some awfully smart people in this world to be able to think up such things.
Oh, and I haven't sent my grandchildren's yearly Santa visit from the North Pole either. Each year I always send them a greeting from Santa. I must do that too. I would have thrilled as a child to get one of those. We used to write letters each year in school and we would get one back as well . . . which was somewhat exciting, even though everyone's reply was exactly the same. I used to glow at the thought of my name being on his nice list . . . even though I knew I'd sometimes been quite naughty!
Some things never change. ☺
Oh, I have written a bunch of tat here this morning haven't I. Shows you where my head is at these days . . . all over the place! I know you love me anyways. My dear and faithful friends . . . that is one of the things I can depend on, like the sun rising over the rooftops across the road each morning, those furry black kisses and that morning hug . . . and rain at Christmas. Your love is a part and parcel of my life, and I thank you for that!
Friendship is a blessing
it’s the best you have to share,
The talents and the wisdom,
the capacity to care…
It’s being there to lend support,
whatever needs arise,
It’s making sure that others know
they’re special in your eyes…
Friendship is a blessing,
and, to all who have a friend,
It’s one of the most precious gifts
that life could ever send.
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Chicken and Gnocchi Soup. Borrowed from my friend April's recipe for Chicken Noodle Soup. Deliciously comforting. I was telling my mom how good it was yesterday and how easy and how I'm going to make it for her when I am there. ☺