Last night I had too much wine and went to bed at 7. #s 2 and 4 assured me that the kitchen would get cleaned up, etc, and shooed me upstair. Good lads, they are.
Isn’t there something delicious and self indulgent about waking up to the sound of soft rain on a tin roof, while wrapped in old soft quilts and there’s a lightweight cat snuggled into the small of your back? Gosh yes, even when it’s 3am. Hot coffee, cool breezes that make the fuzzy red bathrobe welcome, and getting the stink-eye from 4 dogs who know that dark:30 is stupid early to be up, I like this.
I love the early, early hours. It wasn’t always so, but now it is. No one calls, no cars drive by, it’s dark. Then you’re awake at this hour, you get the gentle privilege of hearing the world wake up and stretch. First, it’s that aggressive mockingbird that nests in the neighbor’s lorepetalum- the one he never prunes and is 20 feet tall. Then it’s the bluebirds in the little birdhouse Himself finally got mounted last Spring. Then all the rest of the birds, pond peepers, guy who starts first shift a 6 and doesn’t understand the concept of “muffler” on his truck.
The weekend was exhausting, physically and emotionally. Thus the over-generous bottle of wine. Also steak. #2 and I were sitting in the dining room yesterday afternoon, after the last of the people left. I looked at him and said “I really want a steak.” and he said “If you’ll give me $20 I’ll go get some.” I stared for a second and realized there was absolutely no reason why we couldn’t have steak, especially since he had asked about frying potatoes. Steak it was. Ribeyes, and it was meant by God that we have steaks because at the store there was a package of ribeyes, nicely marbled, marked down $6 due to turning a wee bit brown. Totally a sign.
By 4 we were eating cast iron pan seared-in-butter ribeyes (seriously. get the pan super hot, melt the butter and sear those steaks, they get a wonderful toothsome crust on the outside while staying delightfully rare in the middle O yes), thin sliced homemade potato chips with a blue cheese dip (equal parts mayo, sour cream, and blue cheese, a bit of garlic powder and black pepper, and just enough mild rice vinegar to thin it into dip consistency), and a lovely fresh tossed salad. We ate like a Queen and her Princes. Steaks cooked like that don’t even need any sauce, just pour the dripping from the pan on top and let them rest for about 10 minutes before eating. O yes, my word, and Yum.
There is still a solid lump of sadness in the middle of my gut. I am still crying myself to sleep each night. I hate that but I have learned not to fight it. I read about people who say they see these signs from their beloveds after they have passed away. Other than that picture the time I was printing stuff, I am not seeing anything. Not that I can tell, anyway. Am I supposed to? Occasionally it feels like maybe I’m doing it wrong, somehow, because I don’t see signs. But things are going so smoothly…pretty much. I am not having roadblocks or huge issues, no one is fighting over anything, people are stepping up and helping…it’s like…I can’t really say. It’s wonderful beyond explanation even in such awful circumstances. Maybe that’s the sign I’m not seeing. Himself was stellar at making things run smoothly in bad situations. It was his gift at work, solving problems… I called him a Dragon Slayer and Stomper of Rats. Maybe God has Himself at work in this, smoothing the way, and stomping the rats before they get to me. Maybe that’s it.