Sunday, January 17, 2010

The Absence of Drama

What a nice weekend. What happened? Nuthin' much.

The moody, rainy sky gave us permission to laze about and enjoy a late breakfast both Saturday and Sunday. Beth cooked a pork roast with almond and tomato jam crust for dinner; I'm following up with a garlic rump roast tonight (it's roast weather, what can I say?)

It's been wet, but mild, and I can feel the tension dissipate as my body realized that the bitter cold it had pushed back against for the last month has finally abated.

Beth and I discovered a ponderous used bookstore very close to our home, and now we can't wait to scour our shelves and storage areas for books we can trade in for credit towards the books we will enjoy in the near future. I came home and wrapped myself around a light novel about life in Provence. It feels nice to give my inspirational/healing/spirituality books a rest for a few days. I can resume such conquests tomorrow.

Today, our daughter went off for a play date and Beth and I took advantage of a cozy afternoon alone. I prepared a snack plate of boucheron de chevre and pecorino cheeses with thin medallions of pork roast and slices of sorpressata sausage surrounding a pile of pecan nut crackers (the conveyance for the other delicacies). I watched a film about the founder of Atlantic Records, spared from daughter Rebecca's usual and plaintive wail of "NOOOOoooo! Not another documentary!"

We even managed a whirlwind cleaning that was mercifully short-lived, but gave us the satisfaction of a partially orderly house (that's the most we shoot for these days!).

I kept up with my commitment to meditate both days (40 minutes for 40 days, as part of the Winterfeast For The Soul celebration), though I have to confess I may have dozed towards the end of today's meditation. At least I didn't tip over.

I was thinking that drama is nice when it's portrayed on a movie or television screen, but otherwise, I am happy without it most days.

Drama can be quite handy when you want to have a good story to tell, however. Tomorrow, if anyone asks what I did over the weekend, I won't have any verbal bling to offer, just the simple and understated "nuthin' much". But I'll be able to voice that phrase with loose shoulders and an unfurrowed brow.

Often, it's easy to take weekends like this for granted, or worse, complain of boredom. This one goes in the gratitude file.

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