Wine: Pinot Grigio (yaaaassss!)
Cheese: again with the Red Leicester, which is irritating. I wasn’t crazy about it yesterday, I probably won’t be tonight. So, I grabbed some white English cheddar from the fridge to supplement (also from Aldi)
Always we begin again, attributed to St Benedict. I look at it each morning on my fridge, hanging there with a hummingbird magnet. It’s a reminder: the day ends, a new one will begin. I can wash off the hurt, frustration,failures of today and start fresh again tomorrow. I tell my older son this at bedtime quite often. So we didn’t do our best today, dude. Today got us by the pants. It’s a good thing we have tomorrow to try again. Isn’t if funny how we tell our children these things in order to let them know it’s okay to screw up, that just over the dark horizon, the sun is still spinning and waiting to light up the day again, but as adults, we choose to continue to focus on what went wrong instead of the newness of each day? I know I don’t speak for everyone, but I certainly find myself getting stuck in that trap. I suppose that’s my Advent goal for myself: to remember that I’ll begin again tomorrow. I’ll do better.
Needless today, I’ve had a rough couple of days. All of my own making, don’t get me wrong. But still, rough. I opened my eyes this morning and just wanted to stay tucked in, wallow some more, cry some more. But I put on those proverbial big-girl panties and went to work, and what I found were that my co-workers (and I’ve only been in this position since August) have become my friends. My wallowing ended and I laughed and felt like a part of something good. They don’t know how much I needed to hear my own laugh (which is loud and pretty obnoxious).
The pinot grigio is good, a little boozier than I like, but passable. It definitely pairs better with the cheddar I already had. I also really hope that’s the end of the red Leicester. At the end of the day, though, especially at the end of a series of days like the couple I’ve had, I never turn my nose up at a glass of wine.
On a completely random tangent, I am coveting these bibs from Patagonia. I have an old pair of Dickies that are about 5 sizes too big and every time I wear them my husband laughs and tells me I look like a huge toddler. But these are sophisticated bibs, right? And by sophisticated, I think I mean expensive.