The sky was blue, too, so I went out and filled the birdfeeders before going for a good walk. It had snowed lightly in the morning, and huge flakes sparkled on top of the fresh snow. Just gorgeous. And on the road where there are trees alongside, snowflakes drifted oh so gently from branch to branch to branch. It was so beautiful I didn't want to come back in, but before walking two miles I was starting to feel tired and thought it would be smarter to turn around and come home.
Woke up with the bullshit again this morning and, before doing some yoga and pouring coffee, did some reading and found this wise little tidbit in the book I'm reading:
We Greeks get married in circles, to impress upon ourselves the essential matrimonial facts: that to be happy you have to find variety in repetition; that to go forward you have to come back to where you began. — Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides
I made sure not to run out of reading material for the next two weeks. This sight is exciting to me:
So. It's Monday. I should start a batch of bread and make six loaves every day till Thursday. I can't buy clothing for Everett for Christmas because he's too fussy and prefers to buy his own. Christmas — bah, humbug, he says — and asks me not to give him any gifts at all. I can't do that. No one should wake up Christmas morning and have not even one gift to open; I've been there more than once. I know that is the case for many people; among them, those who don't have mothers. How do I respect his stated wish while still respecting my desire to give? Why, a batch of bread, of course; that, he welcomes at any time and for any reason.
Also, his dad is coming to spend Christmas with the boys. I thought I'd bake a batch for Gord to take home, too, since he always raves about it and appreciates it so much. It's probably the one thing he misses about living with me. And I could bake a batch for my brother Cameron, who also likes good homemade bread; Gord could deliver it when he gets back to St. Albert, for the two of them live in the same building. Will I manage to live up to my best intentions? Right now the kitchen is spikkety-span, and the thought of messing it up with baking is quite unpleasant. Maybe I'll give myself a break; they can all live without homemade bread.
This morning I tackled the second bookshelf and stacked up another 23 books to move out of my domain. Yesterday I plunked the first box of them onto the back seat of my car, Little Green. It's tough! The tiny library in town is always having book sales to make space for newer books, so it won't want them I'm sure. They end up being recycled — that is, the pages torn from their covers, which is done right in Wadena. The thought of it turns my stomach, as it does to anyone who loves books. Surely someone would want them! Could use them! We need one of those little book-giving mailboxes somewhere. We need a secondhand bookstore! Hm ... maybe I could just haul them all out to my camper till someone needs one. I mean, there are so many titles of interest ... yeah I know, maybe just to me. But listen:
1. Teaching Arithmetic for Teachers in Training (1945). It was one of Mom's books, I see from her name written on the flyleaf. Sure it teaches the "old" math, but wouldn't that be helpful for anyone tutoring someone in math now, anyway? Julie? Or maybe the local elementary school would find it useful to try a different approach with kids who are struggling?
2. Spanish for Dummies. Yeah. I didn't get far with that. Someday...I always thought.
3 and 4. There is Nothing Wrong with You, and The Key and the Name of the Key is Willingness, by Cheri Huber.
5. The Invisible Partners, by John A. Sanford.
6. The Dance of Anger, by Harriet, Goldhor Lerner.
... and on it goes.
Actually I think I'm going to read through #4 again.
These are all books I think I'll read again one day or give them to someone who might benefit from them ... but it hasn't happened in at least 15 years and probably never will. So ... out they must go. Even The Indian Tipi is already in Little Green. I got as far as sourcing canvas to build one, once, 30 years ago. It's never going to happen. See what I mean?
