Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Weekly Update, this time on a Wednesday

Out the window:
Icy slush fell as I took Vivian to school this morning. It isn't snow, but it is more wintry than we have yet seen.

On my smile:
Our fortune cookies from Christmas Eve. Each of them was weirdly relevant, but I didn't quite understand mine at the time. After four days of The Conspiracy, it makes perfect sense.
Mine: Today is a great time to deal with those real estate matters!
Ethan: Routine protects against chaos and whim.
Graeme: Too much comfort is not a good thing.
Vivian: Be content with what you have.
On my Kindle:
Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. This is all part of the You-need-to-buy-a-castle-in-Scotland Conspiracy.

On the Roku:
I have given television a break. It will be back when Arrow returns, but even then, I'll only be watching that one show, at least until some of the rest of the house gets sorted.

On the menu:
Looking forward to burgers on Friday.
I had my first oyster ever last week, and it was delicious. The smoked Gouda on top and bits of bacon beneath didn't hurt, either.

On my To Do List:
Yes, I know. This still hasn't changed. Likely it won't for a couple weeks or so as we reclaim the house from the Winter Break.
  • Step One for creating the meditation zone: Clear out the boxes. [You know the ones. They are freaking everywhere and dragging me down.]
  • Plan meals for the next six weeks and buy supplies
  • Plan for the Soup Crew for next year

In the Crock Pot:
Black-Eyed pea soup for New Year's Eve

On the needle:
The Blue Sweater persists.I started the second sleeve, and then there was the holiday. I plan on moving my work-in-progress basket to the living room.

On the wire
Even the phone is sending me random, unsolicited links of castles for sale in Scotland.

No words needed:

Lesson learned the past few days:
The You-need-to-buy-a-castle-in-Scotland Conspiracy is real.

On my mind:
A castle, in Scotland. With a Highland Games Festival, lambs in the field and cattle grazing. Fields of barley and standing stones. Peat from the inlet nearby for the distillery. Private label single malt and a comfy chair by the fire.

Off the page:
Dare to be honest and fear no labor. --Robert Burns