getting there

Lists. Lists lists lists. The other day Wayson came with his car and drove me around to get the heavy stuff - the 18 pound turkey, the huge sack of potatoes. Today I decided to make the stuffing - 2 days in advance. I got out the food processor which I use only to chop up breadcrumbs and spices for stuffing, and of course, it does not work. Spent half an hour trying to get it to work and another half hour pulling bits of bread into little pieces. But the stuffing, though lumpy, is made. Cross that off the list.

This afternoon, to the Farm to check on things for the pageant. There's fresh snow, it's very pretty, but doesn't make the job of preparing this event any easier. However - all systems go.

A woman on Parliament Street stopped me. "Our children were in nursery school together," she said. "So you're still in the neighbourhood? And you're still alive, that's what counts." Yes, yes it does indeed count. She complained that her children come from far away for Xmas with their spouses and kids and a very big dog and after a few days they all can't stand each other. I am very glad my children come from the other side of town and then they go home. And we all love each other very much.

Wayson came again tonight, for supper and to watch the end of "The Crown." What a superb series, fantastic. After he didn't seem to want to leave, so I proposed a few home movies, transferred some years ago to DVD. We watched a film from Xmas 1986, the year we moved into this house. The film quality is appalling, and the quality of the camerawork is even worse. But still - there are my parents and my uncle Edgar, gone now. There's Auntie Do, very much alive more than 30 years later. And also my ex and me - my face unlined, my hair brown, bustling around helping our little kids, aged 2 and 5, open presents, cooking, serving. In this very kitchen, this living room. She's a stranger; I can barely remember her. It kind of hurts to watch, to think about that time. I'll watch it all again sometime, for research, without boring my dear friend.

A small watcher this morning stood checking out the kitchen. Probably waiting for an invitation to Christmas dinner. With lumpy stuffing.