The last post (not including my award acceptance post) was “A Fine Day, Indeed” and I rather liked the sound of it so I did it again… but in a more sarcastic vein.
Today was loveliness.
I would feel bad for posting about all the happy little nothings in my life that seem insignificant, but really, all those little things are what add up to the greatest joy, and they’re worth remembering. (For me, at least. Again, there’s absolutely no pressure to read all this fluff.)
For example, this morning I had the time to make my own pancakes instead of using a premix. I took the most simple recipe, quadrupled it, added vanilla, and the result was delicious. We have a few picky eaters who are definite fans of the Krusteaz mix, but it’s nice to do it the real way now and then to keep in practice.
We had a slow start to the morning, much to my Dad’s disapproval, but despite his protests of our lingering in the kitchen while he tried to assemble us for devotions, he couldn’t help but join in with the bantering and laughter of a house full of young people enjoying breakfast.
And as much as I adore a quiet, rainy morning with only a book and extra pillows for company, I find I love the noisy mornings just as well.*
My littlest brother was frittering around my leg, and when I turned away to flip a pancake, he let out this dramatic, “Auuuuugh!! I wanted to hug you!” and started to scamper off.
“Oh I’m sorry! Well, don’t run away defeated!” I called after him. “That’s the nice thing about me; you can always come back and I’ll be here to hug.”
While saying so, I did realise that I’m about to leave him for four days, but I guess it works in reverse, too.
There were, however, some difficulties with the knobs for our stove top. Mum likes to take them all off and hide them because a certain someone in the house will be up at three or four in the morning, making eggs and waking everyone up if she doesn’t. I could only find one knob this morning, but my third brother wanted to scramble the eggs while I made the pancakes. That would mean either taking the knob off my burner to turn his on, or forcing him to wait until I was finished.
“It’s okay,” I said, “Since we are poor, we can share a knob.” (Poor in my vocabulary rhymes with ‘lure’ like Mrs. Hughes from Downton would say it.) Someone–I don’t recall who–mentioned being an old maid, and I said, “Yes, I am a poor old maid… Wait! I’m… I’m Miss Bates!! All this time I thought I was Emma, but I’m Miss Bates!! MUUUUUUUMMMM!! I’M MISS BATES!! WHAT IS MY LIFE NOW!?!?”
Well, then this same brother wanted the spatula I had already taken for my pancake flipping, but I refused to give it up, for it is a superior spatula in every way. I said that a woman gets first pick of the kitchen tools, and he turned and found another one exactly like it in a matter of seconds.
“Don’t worry. I cloned it.”
“Whoa! Could you do that with the rest of the stuff in the house, so we don’t have to buy groceries?”
“Nah. My ability has a one year cool down.”
“And you used it on a spatula.”
“I really wanted that spatula.”
Oh, and I was given today and the next five days off work, so guess who gets six straight days of wearing normal person clothes?? *happy sigh* I love my cosy top and jeans. And this weather! The forecast said “wind advisory” which is synonymous to “the best day ever!”
Perfect day for getting piles of laundry sorted and put away so I can find everything I want to pack for my early birthday weekend! I’m going to my best friend and Beta’s house until Monday. She lives fifteen minutes away, but that makes it no less special.
My poor sister is sick, though. So I made her up a little tray with jasmine tea sweetened with honey, and some soup I threw together with whatever I found in the fridge and cupboard that had not expired yet. It turned out surprisingly delicious! The soup, that is. I knew the tea was great.
My secret is sesame oil. I’m about 99% sure sesame oil is an aphrodisiac. I haven’t looked it up so I have yet to gain professional support on this theory, but whenever I get the bottle down from the shelf I have to open it and just drink in the fragrance. Then I say, “Oooh, I think I’m falling in love…!! No wait, that’s just my soup.”
So my point of this sarcastically titled post is that even though I have less money in my account than I’ve ever had since before working, and I’m starting to freak out just a little bit regarding spending money, I will not be asking for any more hours at work, nor do I feel like “poor” can be used in the negative sense when applied to me. Because I feel significantly blessed right now. Homemade Gonzo Soup is scrummy and inexpensive. Sharing a cup of tea with my sister beats making six lattes for snooty strangers. Writing in my journal with the breeze ruffling the pages is more romantic than nearly passing out in the managers’ office.
I can’t really contest the “old maid” part, though. : P
*Now that I think of it, I don’t know that I’ve ever had a morning with only books and pillows for company. I’m either at Mine Clone’s house and she’s making us tea while I read/write, or my sister is snuggled up in the bed with me. I do not mind this.
On a side note… 15 days until my birthday! I’ll be 23. For my birthday, I want more days like this. And some rain. And swings should be involved.