A leisurely start to my day has become a fixture, de rigueur. The dogs have let me sleep beyond 8:30. This morning it was close to ten. I never know which of us is awake first, me or the dogs. They do seem to have an uncanny ability to recognize my change in breathing. Nala attacks, whacking me with her paws. I pretend to be sleeping, but she’s on to me and keeps whacking. I give in and get up. I take my time downstairs having coffee with my newspapers. Today I added an English muffin with blueberry jam. I like the day so far.

When I was a kid, I often got books of paper dolls for Christmas. In my stocking was always a pair of scissors, safety kids’ scissors which were never sharp enough, but in hindsight, maybe I should be glad of that, but scissors and I do well together. I remember so very carefully wielding the scissors and following the black lines, the cut-able areas, around all the clothes and shoes and accessories. The doll was usually cardboard while the clothes were paper. My big, and only, disappointment was when the doll wouldn’t stay standing. I’d have to lean her. Such was the life of a paper doll.

Uptown, when I was a kid, there used to be a J.P. Penney ordering shop. My mother would make her list from the catalog, bring it uptown and order, a big order at Christmas, mostly clothes, including our Christmas Eve pajamas. I think of my mother and her lists as the ancestors of on-line shopping.

Nala stole the tree skirt from the ugly pine in the dining room. I only know because I found it soaked with rain on the deck stairs. It is now draining in the sink. Nothing is safe from Nala. Things she has ignored for two years are now coming under attack. Well meaning suggestions from my readers in regard to her felonious behavior included getting rid of her, not ever, and moving things she’s likely to steal to safety but that would mean my house would have a couch, a bed, a TV and food hidden in caches and cabinets. Even then I suspect nothing is safe. Nala would find a way. It feels like we are living in a Road Runner world, and I am Wile E. Coyote,

Some days feel perfect. Today is one of those days. I can’t exactly say why. The weather hasn’t changed. It is still damp and rainy. The house is dark. My kitchen counter is filled with the Christmas decorations from the dining room, now empty of everything Christmas except the scrub pine. It always goes last of all. Everything else goes in bins. That means down and up and down the cellar stairs always carrying a bin: light up, heavy down. I’ll finish all but the living room today. That room will take the longest and will be the saddest. The Christmas tree will be stripped of all decorations, bagged and carried outside, destined for the dump and then the beach, a worthy end for such a beautiful tree.

I am amazed at my industry. All of a sudden, I had the urge to start taking down Christmas, a little at a time, and managed to do three rooms, okay two and a half. Next, I have to gather the bins from the cellar. I’m taking breaks, having coffee, then starting again. I’m taking my time. I have all the time I need.

When I was a kid, Christmas was there then it was gone, all in a single day. While we were at school, my mother took down all the decorations and the tree. When I got home from school, I noticed the change right away. The living room looked drab. Everywhere felt dark. I missed the tree lights, but I liked the few compensations. The TV went back to its usual spot just vacated by the tree, and we settled in on the rug to watch. Sometimes we ate dinner on trays while watching TV. That always felt special and maybe a tiny bit wrong. The tree was forgotten.

I still collect cookbooks but not so often anymore, but if I find one to fill a hole in a collection, I’m on it. One of my favorite collections is books of recipes from works of literature. One of the first cookbooks I ever bought was Dining with William Shakespeare. I don’t remember the last one I bought. I know The Boxcar Children, Dinner with Tennessee Williams and The Outlander cookbooks are on my list, but I’m in no hurry.

I do enjoy reading cookbooks and imagining the meals. I also imagine the table decorations and the music to complement the meal. I find it all fun.

It has been a while since my last dinner party. I think it is time to get my imaginings working.