Monday, January 2, 2012

I hope you had your peas this year

That pot holds a mess of blackeyed peas, my friends. They're my favorite, they're not easy to find fresh except for at New Year's, and I might have gotten carried away. There's at least 5 qt. of peas in there plus liquid and bacon and garlic, and for some reason, they're taking foreverrrrrr to cook. I've decided to blame it on the peas being less fresh than advertised and not take it on some kind of horrible omen about my luck. Blackeyed peas, cornbread, and some sort of greens is what my family has always done for luck, money, and abundance in the new year. It's funny - my family's not much for superstitions, but the blackeyes are a MUST. My mom calls me every year, usually more than once, to make sure I'm cooking some. Does everyone's family have something like this that they do for the new year?

I hope your year is full of pleasant surprises, useful knowledge, love, and all sorts of good things.

Mine is kicked off with a massive cleaning and organization project half-done, now lying disheveled along the roadside where I dumped it. Yesterday, I came down with a fever and some sort of cold bug. That will seriously get in the way of your Big Plans For Productivity. I also just might have maybe sorta taken on too many things at once without any help, believing that I have domestic superpowers. While the house is much cleaner (we're talking baseboards and window sills dusted clean, people), the great room is full of folded laundry and bins of off-season clothes and craft supplies that are being sorted for organization. Which is to say that it's clean, but it looks worse than it did when I started. My project to build a bar (which might get poached as an altar) out of a solid wood dresser I found by the dumpster got off to a great start. It's stripped, sanded, wiped down, has a new top, has supports in place, and now it's stalled. I can't find my saw anywhere. Oops.

I'm going to call this a lesson in being persistent and in not getting mad at myself for having human limitations. Or for not having the kind of stamina I had at 18. A lot has been accomplished. This is just the last lurch up to the top of the hill where I can admire what's been done and enjoy a smooth coast to the finish line. I have faith. I have dedication. And I think I have an idea of where my saw might be hiding.

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