Tuesday. Tearing out parent tapes. Food. And maybe hope?

It's Tuesday, it's 14 degrees, and the world is a little iced over-- but it seems traffic is going along as it usually does, so it's likely that only the side roads and driveways of the north country are slick. I, for one, am super happy I am not navigating that mess. It's another coffee+bathrobe=peaceful morning. 

I had originally scheduled a covid vax booster for today-- and last night, I moved it to this coming Saturday. Why disrupt my peace? If past experience holds true, I will feel a little icky and sore, so I'd much rather do that on Saturday than today, when it's mid-vacation week. And it is a vacation now-- I got my book review done (should be posted today, actually), and I got my Google Classrooms up and functional. Those were the two "big" things looming, and I got those out of the way. For once, I did not plan any major house-hold cleaning or reorganizing things. I'm content to just do the usual upkeep. Maybe I'm learning, finally, at 59, that vacations are not supposed to be jam-packed with projects. It's taken this long to rip out the parent tapes. 

My mother always had some sort of large project looming: remodeling, construction, wallpapering...you name it. And it became everyone's task. It's no wonder I have a hard time just sitting and enjoying the quiet. I, of course, followed that pattern as an adult. It was not intentional, but more deeply rooted in the "what we do when we have time off" training. It's not too late to rip out the wiring. I'm living proof that such wiring exists, and that it's critically necessary to re-establish healthier ways of living. 

So I'm here, chatting with you (well, sort of), with a hot cup of coffee and my fuzzy bathrobe. Doggo is in the chair, and I have NO plans for the day, except probably giving the bathrooms a quick clean. Meg's off today (first day since forever, it seems), and maybe we'll head out later. Or not. I'm sure she needs some unstructured recovery time. After Christmas, she went to work and didn't come home 'til last night-- day shifts, night call shifts, etc. It's a lot. And she'll be back to work again tomorrow. 

But not on New Year's Day! I'm hoping to roast an 18 lb. turkey on New Year's Day. It's been in my freezer, it's taking up space, and it'll be nice to have the leftovers. I'll share a quantity of them with her house, too-- it's amazing how much room a big ol' bird takes up. And there's another small turkey in the freezer, alongside two hams, a corned beef, and a dauntingly large amount of chopped up tomatoes, strawberries, and blueberries. I'm not a prepper, nor am I a hoarder, but I do like to make sure we'll never go hungry (cue Scarlett O'Hara). I think I'll make a blueberry pie, too. Make some inroads on those frozen berries. Frozen berries are so dang wet, though. I might just cook them down a little and thicken them, then pop the filling into pie crust and proceed. Seems like the best plan, if I don't want a soggy-bottomed pie. 

In other words, I am going into the next year armed with food. It's hard to feel hope (though I should make the effort), and it's hard to find a way into/through the morass that the national news delivers constantly (and why is there always so much awful stuff? It's mucky to read and digest, and much of it human-created-- maybe they should take up a safer hobby? Maybe pottery?)-- but that's the goal. No major resolutions coming from me, not this year. If I have a resolution at all, it's to stay afloat, emotionally and spiritually. To cling to family and traditions. And to do as much as I can, for as many as I can, as long as I can. In short, survive. Thrive, if I can. 

With your friendship, I will be fine. 

Hang onto your hats, folks. Hold your loved ones closest to your heart. There's a new year rolling into town, and we don't know yet if it's friendly. I pray it is at least benign.

C