Scent of a Holiday

Pacing, thinking, writing-lists, have been the sum of my last few days. The next few days will be filled with the same, only more so. I’m forging on out of a sense of sensibility in spite of the current state of internal indifference.

Waiting for the holiday in me to wake up and smell the cinnamon.

I have still, more shopping to do. I don’t want to, but I must, finally and absolutely. My shopping consultant, my bud, hasn’t been available. I'm feeling just a bit paralyzed by her absence and just a tad bit embarrassed about that. Her new work schedule has her working weekends. Of late, she’s been spending her off days and evenings with her boyfriend.

Thrilled she’s working. Absolutely. Thrilled she’s happy with the boyfriend (these past few weeks). Absolutely. Miss her. Absolutely. Plunge ahead, celebrate the good. Absolutely.

We’ll have Thursday. She’s going to come to the company’s Christmas pot-luck. This is a new experience for me. Not Dani being there. She’s attended our dinners before. This is the first pot-luck. I’m not so sure about this pot-luck idea. I’ve seen what these guys eat for lunch. My diet may be safe for another day. I’m making Mac N Cheese. I haven’t made food for non-family members since the church pot-lucks some 6 years ago. Not that I'm worried. I make Mac N Cheese often. Never-the-less, Thursday should prove interesting on several fronts.

The holiday in me wants to wake up and smell the cinnamon.

I call my mom to say hey, howya doin. She replies that she hasn’t heard from my older brother in weeks. The conversation had little choice but to plummet after that admission.

I thought..a hint..is that cinnamon?

Michael’s been temporarily side-lined with an aching back; strained by all the physicality related to the recent show and particularly stressful, strenuous work responsibilities. The doc gave him a muscle relaxant and instructions to stay home from work for the next few days. He had to cancel an audition and post-pone his photo shoot.

Maybe it’s not cinnamon I’m supposed to smell.

Some hours over the past several, have been spent contemplating. Work projects, adjustments related to priority shifts, finding a new laundromat, responding to an email from a woman who’s subject line is: intrigued, a possible adventure next month and more.

This contemplating is being done while playing with my new toy–bottled frustration.

The object is to get the little wooden ball out of the bottle. Solving helped with the contemplation.

Ahh...cinnamon.