Monday, November 15, 2010

Mid-November Slow Down

Today happened to be one of those days where everything was half. I surprised even myself when I hopped into the shower at an appropriate time of day (i.e. prior to lunch), only to realize half-way through conditioning that we had visitors due to arrive in less than 10 minutes.

Our company arrived and I emerged from the bathroom smelling like some sort of a fruit smoothie, but my good intentions for a fit-for-public hair day slipped down the drain as I looked the other way.

I dotted concealer over my ghoulish undereyes, but nothing else ever made it out of the bag.

I wore a normal (i.e. non-fleece) outfit, but in a mad rush to get Calvin to school on time, I laced my running shoes over my heart patterned knee socks, and I never did find the gumption to trade them in for something that made more sense.

Dinner was homemade mashed potatoes and chicken and noodles, but I forgot the rolls.

Yadda.


Yadda.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, I invented the best sandwich this side of the Rio Grande.


It should be noted that I work from a pretty loose interpretation of the word "invented".

Behold - the Wonder that is the buffalo turkey sandwich on an "Everything" bagel thin. There's no good reason why I am only now discovering the allure of this particular deli meat. But I'll tell you this - toast up that bagel thin and slap a round of Farmer's cheese right on its crusty surface. The heat will goo that cheese up right nicely. Add the meat and some unfairly maligned iceberg lettuce. Drizzle on some ranch salad dressing. Then bless the day you ever met me.

It is entirely possible that I am a genius.

And yes, I do, in fact, work from a somewhat loose interpretation of the word "genius".

In other news, was anyone else unaware that we are now officially half-way through November? In usual fashion, I'm not ready to be half-way through. I'm checking the brakes, and they're a bit spongy.

But these seasons, these holidays, they don't ask my permission. They sweep right through and I've learned the hard way that they have no sympathy for stallers.

I just want to give Thanksgiving its due. Heck, I want to give tomorrow its due. I want to slow it all down to half-time. I'll take these next two weeks in slow motion, thank you. I'll pull on extra layers and inexplicably garish socks. I'll wash the flannel sheets, worn down to jersey knit from years of overuse. I'll daydream about tackling what some have dubbed "The Best" apple cobbler. I'll lean slightly inward, because it's just what I do when the air cools. Perhaps over-insulation is to blame, but I get to pondering. And wondering. And grappling. The same thing happens in Spring, and many of you lived to tell, so just consider this your biannual warning.

For now, I'd like to give a shout-out to the universe that brought me the following autumnal freebies:

* One gorgeous mum
* Four wee, perplexingly home-grown pumpkins
* Two smallish, gifted pumpkins
* One medium-sized kindergarten field-trip pumpkin
* One lovely fall floral arrangement

It seems my new fall panned out quite nicely.

Oh, this Universe of mine also delivered to me a Ziploc of the dreamiest cookies I've had in a good, long while. And I don't say that lightly.


So, two weeks, my friends. We've got two weeks ahead of us, lined up and at attention, begging to be noticed. They've scrubbed their faces and smoothed down their fly-aways. They know they aren't the most popular. They feel the cool of the shadows in which they stand. But they are gifts in their own right and they know it.

Christmas will have its turn. In time, snow will blanket many of us up in full-throttle winter.

But the next two weeks happen to hold a fistful of mystery. They may be burn our throats, but then again, they may sing-song to us, "leave your jacket at home!" They offer wide-open, unrushed opportunity for reflecting.

Grab ahold. Lace your fingers into theirs. Ring-around-the-rosy with them, just because you're smart enough to do it.

And then? We'll talk Christmas.