Tuesday May 26, 2009
all in a winter’s day
In the morning, I make lemon muffins and alphabet soup.
Soon after, there are books wrapped in brown paper in my letter box.
I call a friend who has just given birth and she says: “We are so lucky. So very lucky.”
Then, someone I have given birth to wrecks our video-player by inserting small bits of lego.
I make packages to send friends having babies and birthdays.
There’s a knock at the door, and when I answer it there is a huge jack-o-lantern with a candle burning inside, in lieu of a person. “Happy winter” sings a ghostly voice, hiding around the corner. It is Margi - the neighbourhood poet - wearing a cute hat and beaming.
There is red wine and candlelight and a beautiful DVD about Iceland.
There is the ongoing conversation about whether or not to get a pet cat. We want the comfort of the warm fur ball, we don’t want the hassle when we go away. I want to get two girl cats to correct the gender imbalance of our household. I will call them something frivolous and daft, like Flo and Flannery or Bagel and Brioche.
There is a snatched hour of sewing. I am making piles and piles of rabbits. I don’t know why or what for. Call it Lagomorpha therapy.
There is reading in bed with my feet on a hot water bottle. The novel is about a woman who lives in England and likes to read in bed. She has cocoa making facilities in the corner of her bedroom.
I think this is a very good idea.