Today is the second Sunday in Advent. The wreath is on the dining room table (which is already cluttered with newspapers, Kleenex boxes, letters, etc. from DB's arrival home), and I actually bought a small Christmas tree today! I haven't bought one since our last Christmas at the original Rose building. That one was about 12 feet tall, a white pine, and it filled the landing of the beautiful stairway that graced that building.
We covered it with huge rose-colored, silky-looking ribbon bows, baby's breath, a million tiny lights, and little nosegays of burgundy flowers. It was elegant, and impressive. It lit up the landing, and at night the huge window was filled with its magnificence. But, as beautiful as it was, it wasn't mine, do you know? It was decoration for the shop, making a statement that this was a quality, tasteful place. In contrast, this little Frazier Fir, only about 5 feet tall, will be mine. I plan to use the tiny lights and small burgundy-and-mauve ribbon bows on it, and place it on my porch. It would dry out too quickly in the house with our hot-air heat. Maybe I'll add small nosegays, and some gold Christmas balls, too. But whatever, it won't be decorated, except for the lights, until the week after the fourth Sunday in Advent. This has been a day to revive my spirits. I did miss having DB with me at church. He just didn't feel good enough to come. The service began with the Great Litany in procession. Fr. J. has a lovely voice for chanting, and the choir responded very well. Many of us in the congregation had the courage to sing the responses, also. We hadn't had much opportunity to sing the service in the previous 23 years. Then, I took Communion to a lady in the nursing home. I had some of the blessed elements left, so I shared them with DB when I got home. We said the Advent II grace and lit two candles before we ate our tuna fish sandwiches. I was tempted to burst into song, but I didn't want to spoil DB's lunch! DB had gone back to bed, so I took all my coupons, the advertising insert from my favorite supermarket, and took off to buy food. I love the days I can get a mocha latte, a chocolate chip cookie or a bourbon-and-pecan biscotti, and sit on one of the high stools in the cafe area of the market to plan my shopping expedition. As I sip my delicious drink and let the cookie melt in my mouth, I plan my meals for the week, check out what I need to keep my "emergency" pantry filled, and add it all up to see if I have anything left over for a couple indulgences. Today I bought a hot pink Christmas cactus. I spend a long time in each aisle. I admire all the produce, think about luxuries such as fresh raspberry sauce on a homemade cheesecake (much too much money for those raspberries), dream in front of the imported cheeses, read all the labels on the foods I buy, seek out some surprise bargains, sample all the non-meat goodies at the little cooking stations, sniff the bath gels and sprays, try to think of good reasons to stock my cupboards with all the interesting cooking utensils, and generally enjoy the total experience. Most of my friends think I'm crazy for loving to food shop... The emergency pantry began in the late fifties, when all of us responsible housekeepers prepared for the nuclear war that the media warned us about. We stocked staples, (a month's worth of meals was the norm)and rotated them every three months. I took it very seriously, even though, with our old house and its drafty foundation, I knew in my heart that we would never survive an attack. And we lived only 20 miles from a major naval base and two hours from a major city. However, just as my mother, in her patriotism during the WWII planted a "victory garden", I had my emergency shelf. I think about this these days with the hype about Y2K. I still have an emergency shelf, and now I've added a couple gallons of water to it. I really don't think there will be any major catastrophe, but I'll be ready, whatever happens. Many times in the past, that shelf has come in handy. We have had power outages, especially in rural New England in the 60's, we've had very lean days, particularly during the Rose, and many other times when I have cut deeply into my stash. Now it is such a part of me that, if I don't have plenty of tomato sauce, pasta, potatoes, soup, evaporated milk, veggie broth, coffee, tea (which I hardly ever drink, by-the-way)tuna fish and hash, I'm very uneasy. There are other interesting things on the shelf these days, also. You can find canned mushrooms, artichokes, sundried tomatoes, jarred pesto sauce, and other such goodies. I like to look at all of it. In fact I purchased special open "Swedish" shelves from Williams and Sonoma so that I CAN look at it! Maybe I AM slightly touched... It was a warm, lovely day today. In December?! Speaking of crazy. Now, at 6:15p.m., it is pitch dark, the temperature is falling, there are raindrops on the windows, and a brisk wind has come up. I wonder if there is snow in the forecast. Guess I'll put a pumpkin bread in the oven. When the weather is changing, "somethin-in-the-oven" is comforting.
DB is feeling lousy; a combination of the cold, the long week with inadquate sleep, and the final day of frustration when the flights were all delayed. So he's sleeping. Now that he is home safely, just two rooms away, I can enjoy these few minutes to myself to indulge myself in memories.
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