It's 6am. Hubby left for work an hour ago. The washing machine and the dryer are going. Dishes are soaking in the sink. Fresh baked bread is cooling on the stove top. Tea is brewing. I'm cutting up photos of the baby to put in a revolving picture frame; one frame for each month of his first year. I can't believe the difference already, and there's only three photos.
Some mornings are just weirdly productive. A burst of energy rolls in out of nowhere and you just have to go with it.
The dog is due at the cardiologist's in four hours. The old truck broke down again and Ian has the new one, so I'll have to rent a car when they open at 7.
Yesterday I did a big grocery shop; I seem to go about twice a month these days. I'm trying to learn how to make things from scratch, get away from buying as much pre-made goods as I can. I've got the bread down- haven't bought any in months, except the occasional sourdough baguette because I love sourdough and haven't had the nerve to try making that yet. I can make pretty good apple pie, too. I make our salad dressings and our cleaning products. Next I'm hoping to try making laundry detergent. Soap, pasta, mayonnaise, butter and lip balm are also on the short list. All things I would rather make myself than pay someone else to (except maybe the pasta; for the amount we eat, I can't see wanting to make it all the time). It's not just about the money, although I dream of someday only needing to visit the fresh produce and baking goods aisles of the grocery store (and someday further than that, maybe not needing to visit it much at all). Every little itsy bitsy step I take towards being able to provide for my family with my own two hands gives me a feeling of being increasingly solid in my footing- more firmly planted on the Earth. A feeling of security and wholesomeness.
My point in bringing all this up is that I hate how, the more I try and make things myself, the more I seem to spend on groceries. I haven't figured this phenomenon out yet, but it irks me.
I really hope the dog will be okay. People that don't have dogs don't understand the love that grows between a person and a canine. It's a bond of complete trust, of total understanding without speaking, that used to allow us to work together for the sake of survival, and now, at least in this part of the world, exists more for companionship than anything. Companionship and survival; perhaps not such different things. I've lost three dogs in my life. I held them all when they died. I think they all knew, in their own ways. They were all ready to go; cancer, an internal rupture, old age. As heartbreaking as it is to lose them, and as brief as their lives are, I can't live without them. I'm just one of those people; I need a dog. They never replace each other and I never stop missing each one of them, but the hole they leave when they go is just too big to heal on its own. The foot of the bed too cold, the house too quiet when I come home.
So that's what on my mind on this dark October morning, the last October morning of this year. My favourite month. And tonight I'll be handing out candy for the first time in my life. I'm looking forward to that. Tomorrow I'll have pictures to share of a very cute pumpkin baby.