-ran my 8 kilometres in the morning (playing with a different schedule, running mid-morning, an hour or so after breakfast, instead of pushing myself out the door first gloomy light)
-finished coaxing decades worth of Christmas accoutrements down from a very high cubby hole -- a step-ladder and a "coaxing stick" were required, and great care as I handed boxes down to where I sorted through . . . wrapping paper, bags, and boxes; candles, candle-holders, reindeer-decorated coasters; broken ornaments, stained ornaments, tacky ornaments, and precious ornaments; old cards which made me weep, cards with signatures I could barely decipher and not a single other word, making me wonder why storage space had been commandeered for years. . . I cannot imagine how Ms. Kondo gets her clients to do whole homes "all at once," but I'm quite pleased that I tackled this space, sent bags to thrift shops and to garbage skips.
-made a batch of pastry, enough for six covered pies, and went on to add 2 tourtières to the stash in the freezer
-blocked a small garment I finished for one of the babies and began one for another -- no more details for now, of course, as we don't want those 9-month-olds reading what Nana's knit them for Christmas...
- had a fabulous dinner with a friend, catching up in our first visit since the summer, and re-affirming what a good decision it was for me to retire (I do have my doubts, as I adjust, sometimes). She's still marking research papers, hasn't even begun marking exams, and will likely be marking right up 'til Christmas Eve, despite having company arrive from overseas next week. New term begins January 4th, and she needs to get her four course outlines ready and printed by then -- and, of course, the university campus will be shut and no support staff available. Ugh! I sipped my prosecco and savoured my duck papperdelle as I nodded sympathetically and made a strenuous effort not to look smug.
I also read (juggling Wab Kinew's memoir with Francine Prose's bio of Caravaggio), kept the woodstove going, had a short nap, and sorted through a cabinet that happened to host one daughter's Big Envelope. Perhaps you had a Big Envelope for yours as well. I'd forgotten much of what got stuffed in there over the years. Old report cards and swim lesson records, sure, but also wonderful journals from Grade 2 with dear, careful printing and the occasional brilliantly inventive spelling. Crayoned representations of the family, Mother's Day cards with earnest greetings, a newspaper clipping of a column incorporating a letter she wrote to the columnist when she was seven....
And this note to Santa, from when she was 6, apparently (I dated most of her little works, but not this one -- she seems to have added her age beneath her signature).
|Should you need a translation: Dear Santa, I left you a letter because I want a pack of felts to crayon with...|
I assume your own days are just as busy as mine, and you may not find time to comment. But if you do, know that you'll be joining a rich conversation -- check out the chat at my last post. I love it! As "Wendy in York," says, the comments form a great antidote to the season's surfeit of commercialism. If you find a minute today, feel free to share what the day's tasks entail OR what memories you've unearthed as you go through your holiday preparations. Don't feel shut out, either, should yours be sad memories -- the season's insistence on Happiness and Merriment can be difficult, but there's room here to bring in other emotions...