Today's blog post was going to be a picture of my house lit up tonight, and close-ups of the hand embroidered ornaments on my tree. The Cuddly Hubby is home for a couple weeks. I had wonderful friends visiting on Sunday. I spent most of last week cleaning and cooking, so my home is clean and my kitchen counter hosts tasty holiday treats. It was going to be a post about the loveliness of the holiday season, and how dear home is.
And then I decided to go buy some firewood and get some groceries. So while Cuddly Hubby shaved and showered, I headed off to run those two short errands. I was listening to Chanticleer on NPR as I drove through the woods and over the historic Concord Covered Bridge, a fresh cup of English rose tea in the cup holder of my car. I was feeling very festive and merry. It has been raining and misty here for three days -- uncharacteristic Georgia weather. The floor of the bridge was re-planked about a year ago, and the new planking is a slightly wider pitch than previously. That's probably good for SUVs, but not great for little gas-sipping cars like mine. I know this. I've driven this bridge a fair bit and am usually fine in positioning my car correctly. With the slick surface, the tires slipped off the raised planks, skidded inside the bridge, and this happened.
So today's blog post is not about holiday cheer and quite homes. Today's post is about how what I feel about 2014 falls into the category of Not Safe For Work. When I attended the Atlanta Knitting Guild meeting earlier this month, I kept running into knitters I respect and admired who had sad stories about losing someone special in their lives this year. I don't like seeing nasty things happening to nice people. This year had too much of that.
What I want for Yule and for 2015 is not riches and fame. I want normality. I want quiet. I just want my husband at home, sleeping in our bed. I want my cats happy and healthy and doing normal kitty things every day without a lot of intervention. I want to get up in the morning, kiss my husband, feed my cats, eat my breakfast, and make a cup of tea. I then want to get to work on whatever knitting thing I need to do -- sending proposals, updating classes, writing handouts, publishing patterns, updating this blog, or making swatches. I do not want to spend time at the veterinarian or the emergency room or patching walls or dealing with auto insurance or attending funerals. Right now it feels as if this request is like asking to win the lottery.
To my dear colleagues out there who do read this blog, I hope 2015 will be a beautiful year for you. I was thinking last night about holding a satchel of stars, and handing them out one by one to the many dear people in my life. Each one would be a lucky star, destined to bring good luck and happy events to each of you. I wish you all the very best through the holidays and the coming new year.
And then I decided to go buy some firewood and get some groceries. So while Cuddly Hubby shaved and showered, I headed off to run those two short errands. I was listening to Chanticleer on NPR as I drove through the woods and over the historic Concord Covered Bridge, a fresh cup of English rose tea in the cup holder of my car. I was feeling very festive and merry. It has been raining and misty here for three days -- uncharacteristic Georgia weather. The floor of the bridge was re-planked about a year ago, and the new planking is a slightly wider pitch than previously. That's probably good for SUVs, but not great for little gas-sipping cars like mine. I know this. I've driven this bridge a fair bit and am usually fine in positioning my car correctly. With the slick surface, the tires slipped off the raised planks, skidded inside the bridge, and this happened.
What I want for Yule and for 2015 is not riches and fame. I want normality. I want quiet. I just want my husband at home, sleeping in our bed. I want my cats happy and healthy and doing normal kitty things every day without a lot of intervention. I want to get up in the morning, kiss my husband, feed my cats, eat my breakfast, and make a cup of tea. I then want to get to work on whatever knitting thing I need to do -- sending proposals, updating classes, writing handouts, publishing patterns, updating this blog, or making swatches. I do not want to spend time at the veterinarian or the emergency room or patching walls or dealing with auto insurance or attending funerals. Right now it feels as if this request is like asking to win the lottery.
To my dear colleagues out there who do read this blog, I hope 2015 will be a beautiful year for you. I was thinking last night about holding a satchel of stars, and handing them out one by one to the many dear people in my life. Each one would be a lucky star, destined to bring good luck and happy events to each of you. I wish you all the very best through the holidays and the coming new year.
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