I'm wishing everyone who reads this the very sweetest Easter imaginable. I have been planning a little menu, which is a little out of the ordinary due to the tastes and preferences at my "table," but I think it sounds delicious. I'm going with a country pot roast with fresh carrots, onions, potatoes, sweet potatoes and celery steamed with it, some green beans with onions and bacon, a little fresh fruit dressed with Pioneer Woman's newest recipe, and little corn muffins baked in my tiniest Temp-Tations muffinette pan. I will have Oriental Coleslaw or salad, and probably another side dish. My desert is a surprise, but I'll pop back on and show you after it is finished (unless it flops, which sometimes happens to Pinterest ideas and me).
I don't know whether it's the return of Winter or what, but this household did a ton of sleeping in the past 36 hours. I think Mom was as tired as I complained to be since she has also napped and snoozed and been in a much better spirit. I heard it was the full moon, and as I watched its golden light through my bedroom window this morning beginning to wane in the mist, I was pretty sure I recalled the power of the moon over my students and even on myself. It's a thing, believe it or not. Full moons brew a tumult of spirit, for good or for evil.
Check with me tomorrow, and you'll find a newly glitzed blonde on my locks. It's about time. I toyed with the notion I would just go gray. That really isn't possible because my hair at its roots is a shimmery white/silver. I've been accomplishing different goals this month. I finally found some new shoes to wear indoors as I work. Hillbillie Hollie, here, I've been going without any shoes for years... I think my gramma used to call the look I've cultivated, "Going to seed." Oh, my... That sounds pretty bad, but I'm clawing back up once again.
Did you hear the wailing and crying from my house today? I put to their rest two of my very favorite skirts and retired a nightgown to wear only when I dye my hair. Now, I'm not one to brag, but I think I got my money's worth from the brown and black numbers who now lie crumpled in the bottom of the kitchen trash. I have been known to use packing tape on the backs of these skirts to pull together larger holes, and I have caught the hem in the wheels of my office chair so many times that I finally had to cut off part of it. I did that last night while I had some delightful friends here as guests. I could imagine my grandmother's shocked glance if she saw me do such a corn pone trick. I noted on QVC that Halston was having uneven hemlines, but... I'm not sure mine pulled off that look quite as well. Almost, though, I think.
I will mourn them, of course, as I have my dear old shoes that lasted far beyond their prime and the sweater of many colors I had to burn to keep from wearing. Why do I never find a favorite skirt, shoe, sweater again? Pretty soon the goddesses of high fashion are going to ask me to pitch my favorite tee shirts, two little White Stag numbers that are easily twelve years old (and don't they look it?) I don't have many middle aged clothes... only newer things and the old ones. The key is the softness factor against my skin. Whisper to me, and I'll keep you around forever, I guess.
Happy Good Friday. I realize this was a pretty secular post for Holy Week. I will try to do a better one before Easter. I truly will... Just wanted to check in while the L'Oreal and I'm worth it was settling into my hair in the "Wait 25 Minutes" phase!
Whimsy and Hugs!