Not Yet!!!

Starting a couple of weeks ago, I have woken up to my annoying, beeping alarm clock as usual. I blinked, debating whether to fall back asleep for a few more minutes, but finally gave in and stretched before sitting up. Then my next thoughts have shocked me every time: "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nipping at your nose..."

No, not yet! It's way too early--it's not even Halloween!! Crap.

Let there be no doubt that I love Christmas songs and I love Christmas. I almost tear up every year hearing songs I've heard ever since I was a child. I love walking around to see twinkling Christmas lights on a cold night and then enjoying a warm cup of hot chocolate. But those who know me well know that I groan when I see Christmas decorations and hear Christmas music in October or November.

What about Thanksgiving? Why is Thanksgiving overshadowed? Being grateful seems to become an afterthought more and more these days anyway. Even the day devoted to giving thanks receives poor attention. Plus, some versions of Christmas songs should never have been recorded. (Just saying.) It's not that I don't like Christmas stuff, but it's hard to see the past the commercial selfishness with early products

So why the sudden change in my behavior that obviously opposes my usual holiday philosophy? I can only think of one explanation. My subconscious knows that Tracy will graduate in December, and it associates December automatically with Christmas. So because I want him to graduate, I subconsciously also want Christmas to come faster. Someone please explain to my subconscious that singing Christmas songs in October is not going to speed up time!

I will continue to look forward to December and Christmas, but with a little more appropriate anticipation, I hope. If not, I suppose I'll just have to face the music.

Goodness Gracious Great Balls of . . .

I have never boasted of being a good cook. I hate deciding what to eat, and I'm not very experienced in different modes of cooking. I feed myself and my husband tolerably well--I try to use some variety, but I also play it safe and use my go-to recipes and dishes. Being married to an older man has enabled me to learn from him and expand my cooking skills a bit, and he has exposed me to a couple of foods I didn't eat growing up. The kitchen is probably my least favorite room in the house--it's saving grace is that my ice cream lives in the kitchen. But I still do not enjoy cooking and don't ever see that changing.

As pessimistic as that sounds, yesterday was proof.  On Saturday night, I was brave. I attempted to make monkey bread, but being not so brave, I used a recipe that involved those biscuits from a can. Bunt-less, I used a normal casserole dish and underestimated how much the bread would rise. Spillage everywhere. It being Saturday night, I decided to wait to clean the bottom of my oven until Monday.

Yesterday, I was making cookies (easy, right?) for our church choir, and smoke emerged from the stove burners. My oven had caught on fire. Although the flame was not big at all (probably the circumference of a cantaloupe), I yelled for Tracy to help me put out the fire and get rid of the smoke before the smoke alarms went off. As we rushed about to fetch fans and open windows, the timer for the cookies (which by the way sounds a lot like the smoke alarm) went off, and Tracy looked at me and said, "The cookies are done!" with his child-like happy grin on his face. I laughed, but I also secretly cursed the kitchen in my head.