One of the first things I hear in the morning when I open my eyes is the plaintive sounds of Nutmeg on the other side of my bedroom door begging me to get up. It is as if he is positively starving and cannot wait a minute longer to be fed. Mealtimes are very important to him. Cinnamon is there also but she is not quite as vocal about it!
I love my little freckle faced boy and sweet girl. I am always saying to him, Oh dear Nutmeg, have you been eating Freckles again? His lips are full of freckles. Its so cute. His nose has even been dipped into the freckle dish.
Cinnamon doesn't eat freckles so she has none. She does have some brown whiskers however and some apricot colored spots on her nose. She can be quite vocal when she wants something as well and is very quick on her feet. She's about half the size of him and twice as fast. Oh what would I do without these two to keep me company here all day.
I wish that I could have them sleeping on my bed, but alas, they are night owls and from about 9 PM on wake up and are very active! No sleeping would occur!
Children always love Winter and snow storms, which for them mean snow angels, school cancelations, snowmen, etc. For adults on the other hand, it means something entirely different. It means snow shoveling, stalled cars, wood lugging, being housebound until the crews get through. Empty bird feeders until a path is made, an extra load of work all round.
I can remember as a child being covered in layers of clothing. Getting undressed after an afternoon playing in the snow was a bit like peeling an onion as the different layers were removed.
I had brown rubber boots which had a furry cuff along the inside top. They pulled shut with a buckle on the side. Taking them off was always a nuisance as the shoes always came off with them. It was very hard to take them off without that happening. If it was at school, then your feet would always get wet from the snow which was melting on the floor beneath the coat hooks. Wet leotard covered feet, stuffed into cold shoes. Never fun.
I am sure that the teacher loved to look around the classroom and see all of those red noses and rosy smudged cheeks after recess, ready to learn . . . a sign of happy, healthy children. What a cheery sight that would have been!
I am always surprised at how many of my Facebook friends have the means to escape the Winter's cold and go down to Florida. Snowbirds they are called. Some of my friends now live down there and in Mexico fulltime. I am not envious in the least. Those of us who stay here in our little Valley make out very well. We build up our fires, light our candles an the soup pot over the hearth makes a pleasant bubbling sound.
We do not dine on mangos and hearts of palm, but feast on warm thick stews, soups, flaky roasted potatoes and the like.
In lieu of roaming on moonlit tropical beaches, we play scrabble by the firelight, and munch on fluffy popcorn and rosy skinned apples. Often we read. Opening a good book, blanket thrown across my lap, is like visiting with an old friend. I love to settle down in the evening with my imaginary companions. They become real and close to me. I am very much at home with each one of them.
I fear I would miss the Winter too much were I to flee its many enchantments. Something vital to my mental health would be missing. I really do love it. I am an old school canoodler.
Dad will be picking up his new car this afternoon. We went to take his supper to him yesterday afternoon and took him to his insurer so that he could switch everything over and then back home again. Of course we did a few bits for him at his house. The landlord was on the phone when we arrived. I think he is pressuring dad to move. He wants to get someone else in there that he can up the rent for. Dad had actually forgotten to pay his rent this month. That has been rectified now. A lot of these landlords are real money grubbers. My rent will not go up for as long as I live here, which is a special blessing to me. My father's goes up every year, by a certain percentage, but when someone new moves in, the Landlord can up the rent by an astronomical amount. That is the same where I live also. I pay quite a bit more than Sheila does, or even Glenna, but not as much as the people across the way.
Last night on the phone dad was saying he can't wait to move into Cindy's. He wants it to be more sooner than later. I think we need to work hard to make that happen. I think he is afraid to drive out to Cindy's for supper each day. His confidence has really been knocked with this last accident. I would not be surprised but what he doesn't just give Cindy the car and ask her to bring his meals back and forth to him each day until he can move in. In many ways that would be the better thing to do. I do worry about him on the roads, especially this time of year.
It is a hard, hard thing to come to the decision to not drive any longer, but I think he is there. Clearing his place out will be a bit of a nightmare, but we can do it. He needs to get on with making his list of what he wants to take with him to her place. We can get him out and safely ensconced at Cindy's . . . and then work at clearing away the rest. So long as he is paying his rent, it doesn't have to be emptied overnight. It will not be easy for sure.
To be honest, I am a bit miffed with his landlord. He spoke to Cindy on the phone yesterday and tried to cloak his greed with concern for dad's welfare, but we both knew what he was up to. It was quite apparent.
In a few weeks now, Eileen will be coming to stay with me while Tim is away at the Canadian Special Olympic Winter Games in Alberta. She is looking forward to that, as am I. The time always goes past far too quickly. I could only daydream about this when I was still in the U.K. Of course she had been going to come over with her brother Anthony for a few weeks and had even bought the tickets, but then Covid happened and so that got put off and then I ended back here anyways. She never did realize her dream of coming to visit England.
I need to reorganize the back bedroom. It has become a catchall these past weeks for everything. Some people have junk drawers. The drawer where everything you can't think of what do with immediately get shoved. That is my back bedroom. I don't have a shed, and so I tend to shove things in there. I need to get in there and organize things again, throw some stuff out. Papers and magazines, etc. My art supplies have gotten in a bit of a muddle as well. I have my toilet paper and tissues and paper towels (of which I have quite a few ahead) stored in there also. When they are on offer I cannot resist buying.
I am making it sound worse than it is. It is just a bit of a muddle. Sigh. I am not an organizer. My sister is very good at organizing. Mom was also. I am a collector. Books. Yarn. Fabric. Art supplies. Those are my main weaknesses. And recipe print outs . . . things I want to try, but then never quite get around to making. They sounded good at the time, but then are forgotten.
And not just people either. Objects. I determined when I moved into my place that I was only going to surround myself with things that brought me joy. I think I have achieved that. Everywhere I look in my space, I see joy. Things that make my heart sing and bring meaning into my life. Things that remind me of the people that I love, many of them being gifts from those same people. Treasures.
Wonderland. My home to me is my wonderland. Filled with love. I love that is is my space and my space alone. That sounds so selfish I know. I am really not selfish, but enjoying a time in my life where I really have nobody to please but myself for the most part. I have spent my whole life caring and doing for others . . . babies, children, husbands . . . and now I am at a point where I can finally care for myself. Can make myself and my own needs a priority.
That is not to say that I cannot still serve others, and I do . . . but I can serve me too and without guilt, if that makes sense. I still do for others, but not out of obligation . . .
My calendar this morning. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow might never happen. We have today and I believe in making the most of the time I have sitting before me. Bad or good, it is all of benefit. I like to think of the hard times as times of growth. They may not feel like you are growing when you are going through them, but in retrospect I can see always where I have grown through them. Become better, etc. That is what I ask of each day, what I pray for. To become more, to learn something new, to find joy in the simple things which make up my life and make it more meaningful, to just be a better person today than I was yesterday. Even small change is good change. But each day is precious. A gift. Something to be treasured. Good or bad. It is all to our benefit in one way or another.
And with that I best leave you with a thought for the day. Time is marching on!
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In The English Kitchen today . . . Cheesy Potato & Baked Bean Pie. I was quite surprised at how delicious this really was. Simple. Hearty. Delicious. Comforting.
I hope you have a beautiful Wednesday. Not sure if we are going out with Dad to supper or not tonight. If he is going to do Chinese, Cindy and I are skipping and going to do our own thing. In a clean restaurant. Call us judgmental, but it is what it is! I like Chinese food, but I hate dirty restaurants. Whatever you get up to today, don't forget!