her able hands

Christmas cards will not go out until after I return from our trip East. Our tree will not have a glitter star on top. I’ll make Pistachio Ribbon Bars for the New Years dinner. Friends I normally (and oh, so happily) send care packages to won’t see those until some time in the New Year.

We’ll have the annual solstice dinner in a restaurant because Ty gets his braces off today and it’s his celebration pick. (I’m hoping for Mexican, a Margarita and Enchiladas Verdes sounds like heaven.)

I’m staying late and bringing work home. The supposed days off after Christmas are a joke on me and a dozen other people, they have packaging that has to go out, and I’ll have to work because I’m the only proofreader. So I surrender. If I can get the laundry done, the bathrooms cleaned and the house tidied before we go, it’ll be enough. There’s only so much a body can do. I may have reached my ceiling.

Happy Solstice to those who observe. May you find time to step outside and feel your feet on the chilled earth, to tip your head to the spinning bowl of night sky and enjoy the vertigo. I’m glad to know you.

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