I haven't done any cooking in . . . well .
. . I really can't remember when. While we were at the store tonight, I
was suddenly seized by the urge to beat Nathan to the weekly question
"What's for dinner tomorrow?"
So . . . lasagna is cooking.
Tomorrow I am also planning to wear two of
Megan's creations to Church. They were attached to her Christmas present
for her dad a few years ago. Amazing children I have that spend such time
and effort on a mere name tag.
In Santo Domingo, I had a girlfriend who
spent hours and hours on the package for any present she wanted to give.
For my birthday, she gave me a very nice pen suspended inside a glass
soda bottle--which was wrapped from top to bottom in very thin cotton
yarn--about the size of embroidery floss. I kept the bottle for years. Of
course I lost the pen within a few weeks.
I usually don't do well with details. Major
things like bleeding knees, burnt hamburgers, crying babies, rotting fruit
in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator--I get these things and take care of
them. But the little things--like a hurt look when I've said something
thoughtless—-birthday cards, Father’s Day cards, Thank you cards (all occasions
that deserve recognition); I buy them, often even address and write in them,
then forget to send them. I miss
the non-emergency, quiet signals that I should see and take care of.
There is actually a pile of Father’s Day
cards that I bought for this year:
for my husband, my father, Brent’s father, the father of my
grandchildren—cards for the kids to sign and send.
I here honour and give thanks for those
around me who do pay attention to the details.
And wear one of these symbols to Church
today.
And try to become better at this by cooking
dinner for the first time in a long time.
