So one night early in November I was sitting here trying to write when I heard the unmistakable sound of a housefly buzzing agains a window.
You know that irritating buzzing and flicking sound?
I loathe that sound.
Anyway, I was here attempting to get a post written and published and the sound, for some reason, was more irritating than usual.
It was the first week of November. The Halloween jack o’lanterns were still on the patio and I had gone outside to turn off a little reusable candle that had been inside Thing 2’s pumpkin.
I got it into my mind that I must have let the fly in then and that it had to be a super icky kind of fly. Maybe the kind of fly that enjoys hanging out with decomposing gourds. The kind of fly the might have been Jeff Goldblum in another life.
Oh my gourd!
It was grossing me out.
You know how sometimes you can habituate a noise or a pest?
Yeah? Well I don’t because that flipping fly was going to drive me mad.
It was him or me.
It was being bold. At the very least it could not be allowed to stay in my bedroom. I’d never sleep. Yuck!
My poor husband was none the wiser (Poirot was on), but that damn fly was buzzing around him as he slept. I couldn’t let that happen. So I jumped up and quickly turned off the lamp on his bedside table.
Now my desk lamp was the only source of light (aside from the glow of the TV and my monitor) and you know what obnoxious flying insects love? They just can’t seem to get enough of light sources. Especially light sources with boxy shades so they can bounce off as many surfaces as possible and thusly gross out their unsuspecting human hosts.
I tried to shoo it away and do you know what that fly did? It flew right at my head!
Inside my head, my brain screamed, ” Oh no you didn’t!”
There was but one choice.
I needed hairspray.
Don’t tell me I’m the only one.
I can’t be the only one!
In the end I bested the demonic creature.
Then I laughed out loud because I am fairly certain that I must have looked at least a little bit like this.
I am missing 11** days of posts out of the 28 days that November has had, so far.
Am I flipping out? Nope.
Do I care? Yes. Of course. I always care.
Am I in knots like I would have been last year? No way! Life is way too short to be in knots over a fictitious deadline of questionable importance.
What am I planning to do with this knowledge?
That is a good question. I am not quite sure what to do.
Should I try and scrounge up the energy and words to post a decent thing for the missing days?
Should I just brush it off and move on?
Can I find a compromise that makes me feel decent about participating in NaBloPoMo again this year? I am honestly not sure.
It is always good to challenge oneself. Of that, I am sure.
I suppose I am just not sure exactly what my goal, beyond 30 posts in 30 days, is – or was.
Last year it was a challenge that I felt I couldn’t possibly complete and, yet, I did.
This year, I knew I could do it and I was pretty sure I would, but here I am on November 28th trying to figure out what to do.
Mostly, I have written elsewhere. Other things for other people.
That is a really cool turn of events that might never have happened if I didn’t start writing a little bit here.
They are interesting words, aren’t they?
I guess what I am saying is that when the intention is clear the accomplishment often seems clearly attainable. The opposite is also true. I think I may have proven that this time.
Maybe the trick is to set a clear intention, no matter the task, in order to reach one’s goals.
Why then, does this not work in all the things I intend to do?
What am I missing?
Are my intentions not good enough? Are they not focussed enough?
Is there something pertinent I am overlooking?
Am I paving a road to H-E- double hockey sticks?
For example, take my weight. No really. Take my weight, please. Ba doom tsh!
Why can’t I intend it away? Wouldn’t that be something!? I wish I could. I really do.
Alas, wishing won’t make it so.
I am tired of it and I intend to do something about it.
I won’t be coming back here to whine about it. I promise. It’s just that I think I believe that a written intention has more power than one I secretly wish inside my head.
Just like I am fairly certain one spoken out loud is more powerful than one written.
Although, I am sure it depends on the person and the intention.
For instance, last Friday we went to see The Vinyl Cafe Christmas Show at the Scotiabank Centre, here, in Halifax. As many of you know by now, Stuart McLean cancelled the remainder of the tour because he has been diagnosed with cancer and was strongly encouraged to begin treatment right away. What many of you may not know is that the show ended with a “Hey Jude” send off and after the “Na na na nanana naaa nanana naaa” part we didn’t sing the words “hey Jude”. No. Instead, we were all singing “Next year” in place of “hey Jude”. We didn’t know Stuart McLean was ill. We did know that he was in fine form, that we were thoroughly entertained, and that we absolutely wanted the Vinyl Cafe Christmas Show to come back to Halifax next year. We wanted Stuart McLean to come back next year.
The phrase “next year” in and of itself isn’t all that special. In fact, it might be seen as a mostly innocuous or even negative thing. Kind of like the elusive “someday” we often utter when making plans to travel to an exotic location or treat ourselves to a fancy something-or-other.
But I am telling you, last Friday night in the Scotiabank Place the phrase “next year” was most definitely an intention. I felt it then and there as I sang it.
It went pretty much according to plan, except we didn’t eat any pie! That is a travesty!
I have a friend in Texas who hosted a 100% pie Thanksgiving today. How amazing is that?!?
And here we are stuffed like the turkey with no room for pie. Oh! The shame!
We’ll have to train harder for next year.
In the meantime, my unending quest for awesome American side dishes (You know they are amazing, right? Oh, you really must go read my post!) I asked my very best imaginary friend, Sheila (Hey Sheila!) for a recipe to share with you and being the awesome friend that she is she came up with this gem!
Sheila’s Corn Casserole
Shoepeg corn, 2 cans, drained
French cut green beans, 1 can, drained
Sour cream, 8 oz.
Slivered almonds, small pkg.
Chopped onion, half – whole (depending on your tastes)
Ground pepper, to taste
Grated cheddar cheese, sharp or mild,
1-2 cup Cream of something** soup (celery, mushroom or chicken.)
Mix it all up in a casserole dish sprayed with Pam Topping
Tube of Ritz crackers, crushed.
Stick of butter, melted.
Blend crackers and melted butter and spread mixture on top of casserole.
Cook 350 for approximately 30 minutes, until bubbly and top is browning.
(Brown to your liking.)
I am definitely making this side dish next year.
It’s late and I must sleep because Friday will be a very busy day.
I want to tell you a bit more about our Thanksgiving dinner conversation with Thing 1 and Thing 2, but it will have to wait until I have a bit more time. I wish I could tell you right now! I assure you I will share as soon as I can.
I will tell you all about Friday’s busy-ness tomorrow night. Promise!
Meanwhile, pie for breakfast!
I kid. I kid.****
How did you spend your Thanksgiving?
Did you double up on this holiday of gratitude?
What are you thankful for today?
**Can you see now why I love Sheila?
***They all work. Celery is what original recipe called for.
It was a very rainy and windy weekend, but for a little while today the rain stopped and I went out to run a few errands.
First stop was at the local farmer’s market which is undergoing major renovations, so it looks at once dilapidated and delightful. It’s confusing, really. I can no longer even imagine what it will look like in the end.
There was a point last year around this time when it stared to feel cozy and nice, but yesterday the makeshift roof was leaking and dripping rainwater on all the things.
I looked around for a minute at the nice, simple homemade, natural wreaths, with their red ribbons and berries, then at the winter holiday planter boxes filled with evergreen boughs, glittery twigs, ribbons and bright red ornaments (which I was coveting, if I’m being honest) and pickles (yes, that’s right) and it just felt odd, but I digress …
Where was I?
Outside, where I parked the car on the new makeshift (?) parking lot there was a table filled with plain evergreen wreaths. They were so festively fragrant I wanted to just stand there the whole time. I took a photo to try and capture it. Can’t you just about smell Christmas?
Then just before entering the building there was another table covered in these gorgeous, bright red, bunches of berries. I don’t know what these berries are, but I know I want all of them. They look so festive, don’t they? These were used in some of the wreaths and planter boxes inside the market.
I have always found the idea of a simple Christmas very appealing.
Every year we say we will keep it low key and simple and we typically do a good job of not going over the top, but when I see things like naked Christmas wreaths and – what I am going to call – winter berries, I am convinced that I would love nothing more than a house in the middle of the woods, filled with the people I love, a real Christmas tree decorated with our treasures and memories and a few homemade additions from nature, and an honest-to-goodness old fashioned Christmas.
That’s the problem with simple. It never really is, is it?
The extremely blustery day woke us with a lot of noise. A heavy glass ball blew off the windowsill and made a rather dramatic landing on the floor. (It didn’t break – yay IKEA). It did scare the bejeezus out of us however. So, we did the only logical thing, we jumped out of bed, thanked our lucky stars it was too warm outside to be snow because it definitely would have been a blizzard, closed any open windows and jumped straight back into bed where we promptly zonked out. The glory of a sleep-in is a wonderful thing. When I woke up it was mostly quiet except for a really low television volume, so I got up an grabbed a little red fleece throw and my iThing, walked to the living room to say good morning to Thing 2 who was sitting in her beanbag chair quietly watching Wander Over Yonder, dropped off the phone and blanket, went to the kitchen to pour myself some coffee, filled my JOY. mug, and sat on the couch to drink it. I snapped a quick photo and counted to myself 3, 2, 1 … And was joined by a super snuggly Thing. Now I can’t move. Life is good. Happy Sunday.