This might be my new favorite term of endearment, found on Cuppa Tea, which I found by following my nose, losing myself online instead of working. I am worse than ever, alas.
We are on the brink of Thanksgiving break of course and it could not have come too soon for yours truly, I'm sure no one's the least bit surprised to hear.
Lots and lots to do this week as usual -- how do vacations get filled up so quickly and completely? It defies explanation, tho not as much as the size of my to-do list defies the time boundaries of 9 wee days according to the dimensions of the universe as we mortals know it. As usual there's no way more than a fraction will get accomplished, even if I kept at it constantly, which... yeah, right, you get the picture. Still it will be good to do stuff at home (paperwork and finish writing my final - blehck) and give the house a big lick & a promise (as Mom used to say) and cook a bunch and spend Quality time with Me, Myself, I, Sam, Lucy, Jess (much of which will merely serve to bring her departure closer... the temptation to sabotage her packing/preparations is extraordinary) and the Fondue Crowd (yum) plus I'm hoping to get seriously Create-y (my New Year's cards have yet to reach zygote stage and a certain Xmas gift will get underway) and read and read and write and write and write.
One Somewhat Big Thing I'd like to attack is my long-dreamt-of kitchen shelf project... we'll see. I have to be in the mood to get tool-y in general (such her father's daughter - everything has to be relatively certain to turn out just right or I won't even jump in), and since this job entails drilling and anchors and rather weird dimensions in the kitchen, as well as a need for it to be both quite strong and moderately attractive, my perfectionism is already revving its engines. (scrunchy nose)
I have been gearing up to make the Jamison>Core>Booth>Clay cranberry sauce and perhaps cook a Mini-Thanksgiving Dinner (for the nostalgia quotient, esp. with the leftovers). Will not make fried parsnips this year which always make me cry as soon as my olfactory nerve connects them with my heart's Mom/Thanksgiving memories. That makes it seem like the tears are the deterrent, but I don't really mind them (or at least am used to bracing myself for my Rampant Holiday Emotions nowadays). Mostly it's the problem of my lack of a big enough attention span for frying almost anything breaded. I start getting bored and thinking I can multi-task, and right about the time I'm getting out some huge bowl to start throwing the dressing ingredients together or digging the jars out of the closet since it would only take a few minutes to dollop out the the gift-destined portions of the cranberry sauce the parsnips are setting off the smoke alarm.
It is quite obvious that in order to attain Frydom Success I need to wait til I have enough money to pay someone to stand there to make sure I stick just to the frying or talk to me so I don't get bored.
Or maybe if I'm in a Relationship again (have we really found no better word after all these years?!) and have my own Snarky Macaroon hanging around... (Absolutely Sans-sour-grapes Disclaimer: I am NOT pining for anything conjugal... but this parsnip-frying thing is certainly something to add to my list of endeavors which might be facilitated by such an arrangement.)
And by the way, how is someone like me to know whether this penchant for multi-tasking is truly my overactive brain's fault or if I can blame it on our computer culture, or more specifically, on Steve Jobs himself? Damn those floaty multiple apertures.