leftovers

Advent this year is as short as it can be. And Thanksgiving was as early as it could be, I think, so there's a long space in between which makes me feel in a kind of limbo. Many homes are decorating for Christmas, but I don't want to do anything until Advent begins. But it's almost here - I'll get out the window candles on Saturday evening.

I am finally getting to the bottom of the leftovers from Thanksgiving; there was a recipe in the newspaper today for a lentil soup with leftover turkey in it. I had no lentils, so I put in all the arborio rice I had and topped off the measuring cup with barley. I also mashed in the acorn squash remains - it tasted delicious, and I was relieved to make good use of the end of the turkey. I think I'll keep the recipe, even though I departed from it; it contains ground cumin and coriander, which are things I have, but would never think to put in soup. 

the mystery of evening

From Gladys Taber:

"There is always one moment in a day when I think my heart will break. Such a moment I think all women have, and men too, when all the meaning of life seems distilled and caught up and you feel you can never, never bear to leave it. It may be when you turn and look down a blazing autumn road or it may be when you see your house under great ancient trees or it may be, in the city, when you look up at a towering apartment building and see one light and think 'that is mine'. It may be any one of a number of things, according to the circumstances of your life.

But there is the moment, and all the heartaches and sorrows of your life suddenly diminish and only the fine brave things stand out. You breathe sharp clean air, your eyes lift to the eternal wideness of the sky.

Anybody has moments like this to store up, but some people are too busy adding up their frustrations to appreciate them. And yet all we need is an awareness of the beauty in life to make us richly content. My definition of happiness is just the ability to garner the perfect moments."