They say if you do something every day for 21 days, it becomes a habit. On this January 2, the first year of the second decade in this century, I’ll attempt a new habit: writing every day. Now, I’m cautiously optimistic. I’ve kept diaries in my life, even when my son was born, but of course, never for public consumption. Perhaps there will be days when my life was even more boring than one can imagine. You know what they say: one man’s trash is another’s treasure. So we’ll find out together.
Tonight, a howling wind and a nearly full moon lure me to the window. What do I see? The neighbor’s blow-up snowman, lit up and dancing in the wind on their lawn. The holiday lights and decorations will be coming down. It’s absolute craziness that the stores already have Valentine candy and in some cases, Easter candy on display. Yikes!
Today, brownies were baked and the last two holiday trays prepared. One for my son’s youth group party that was snowed-out December 20; my tray goes with me to a brunch to pay tribute to volunteers at my church. You know, teaching the kids cooking at Sunday school is a blessing. I put so much into trying to come up with a recipe that coincides with the lesson the children are learning. No matter what, the kids always “get” the connection. Their eyes fill with anticipation as they learn what they’ll be making in the church kitchen. They eagerly stir and mix and measure. But the best is watching them enjoy the fruits of their labor. Best of all, it’s so fulfilling when the kids want to take some samples home to share with their families. The last class I taught, one precious 7-year-old boy said,” Thank you for what you do.” I could have cried. It was a joy to tell the boy’s parents how sweet their son is.