Fill the cup with kittens, specifically

Hello and welcome to the winter holidays. That’s right: we all woke up here, and this is happening. I already have a Christmas tree. That sounds like a lie, but it is not.

A few weeks ago my sister-in-law went on a hike with my husband & her husband (my husband’s brother) (you do the math) (I didn’t feel like going), and while strolling through a canyon full of beautiful fall leaves, she tripped and fell and broke her tibia. My husband had to carry her out piggy-back (her husband, his brother, having damaged himself through CrossFit) (one more reason to never do CrossFit), which took 5 hours, during which time they more than once heard the crunching and mooshing of the bone. It was a spiral fracture of the tibia, and she has now had surgery and is on the mend, but as you can imagine it was not the gentle glide into fall that they were expecting.

I had ice cream that day and it was delicious.

Today, while emptying the dishwasher, Dave pulled a back muscle. Dave was my last pinch-hitter for Thanksgiving cooking! Ryan (his brother) is tending to Kim (of the crunching, smooshing, mooshing bone), and I alone can save Thanksgiving. This is an action movie now, and I am the entire rescue team.

I actually already had made a plan where I cooked basically everything, so it’s not as bad as it sounds, and I am obviously getting a lot of pleasure from both the responsibility and my excellent organization. I have made a number of checklists on graph paper, and have checked the items off in sequence. I am putting pie in the oven today. The turkey is already spatchcocked. Spatchcocked!

Anyway, I drew us all some kittens, because this year is coming to a close, lowering the lights, turning down the temperature and maybe putting on some off-tempo music to encourage that lagging customers to pack up and get a move on. We need a little present to keep us going. Today I am baking, tomorrow I am eating, Monday I am getting a COVID booster shot. Paul is taking a nap by my feet, and when I woke up this morning the whole world smelled of rain, though there was no rain in evidence, just a receding scrim of clouds and a cool breeze, moisture sticking to the skin, this particular air a welcoming gesture from the desert, an indication that peace will come if you wait long enough for it, though it will not stay forever. The coyotes are back. They lollop around in pairs. They woke up this morning, too, and smelled the air, and they thought, Thank you.