I was awakened at five by Gracie’s panting so I got up and opened the front door. I didn’t go with her but did check a couple of minuets later, no Gracie on the grass. In a panic I ran barefooted outside to the wet, cold lawn then noticed the lights, the motion detector lights, were on in the backyard. I had left the gate open and Gracie saw it, went in the yard and did her business. She showed up a bit later at the front door. I was thrilled. That means on the coldest nights Gracie can go alone while I stay inside and man the door. During the daytime, though, I’ll go with her.

I had an early morning meeting, early for me anyway, at nine. Alexa’s dulcet tones were set to wake me, but I beat her to it and woke up on my own. That gave me a chance for coffee and a tiny bit of the paper. I was meeting ready.

Dismal is still with us. The sky is cloudy but not as dark as it has been. It will get down to the 30’s tonight. I am not enthused.

This time of year, my mother and I used to buy just about every issue of the Christmas magazines. We’d talk on the phone discussing the recipes and the decorations and then we’d decide what new recipes to try. My usual Christmas goodies to make were two or three kinds of cookies, one being orange cookies, my mother’s favorite, date-nut bread, fudge and toffee. My mother made mostly cookies, one kind was always sugar cookies. They were my favorite. She made great sugar cookies. My father was thrilled this time of year. All the goodies were in tins on the dining room table. He’d make several trips every day. Every morning he had date-nut bread slathered with butter. I used his mother’s recipe, about the only good thing she made. To say she wasn’t an inspired cook is an understatement, but the weird thing is the date-nut bread recipe is the only recipe handed down from my grandmothers.

Every Wednesday both newspapers have food day so I cut out recipes I know I’ll  probably never make but want to have just in case. I also cut out recipes from magazines for the same reason. Under my table here in the den are three huge baskets. The middle one is overflowing with recipes. Every now and then I pull them out and go through a few piles in case one inspires me to action. I keep telling myself the recipes need to be organized but that’s as far as I get.

I have a couple of house things to do but none are pressing. That might have to do with my having three new books to read from the library. They are right where I can see them, and I swear I can hear them calling my name.