All those "buckets" of lil stuff....

Meadow Lane, my name for this old house, has declared war on all the miscellaneous periphery... Does anyone else have little buckets of treasure (aka junque) that just accumulate and naturally multiply at an alarming rate? Then it spills over to another "bucket." Now I say "bucket," but it may manifest in a bowl, a basket, maybe a drawer, a box, or a pretty bag. Ugh... I might have more trouble with this than you because I don't walk around as much... but actually I remember this bad habit of "bucket-filling" as a teacher and even as a child.

Well. That's my jam this week. I am taking a few minutes to empty each container, sort, and put away. I know. I make it sound as if I've translated the Magna Carta or something. Baby steps, I guess.

Sunday here hosts ice and snow, grey skies, and damp cold. My dad was not a "cusser" or really much for dramatic emotions [until pushed beyond his limit.] But he liked to tease my mom and push his luck a bit... "Boy, Norma. It's damp cold today! Really damp cold." His eyes would laugh at me and wait for her to say it: "Now stop that! You know better than to do that in front of your daughter!"

I made Swiss steak in the Instant Pot, green beans with butter and garlic, cheesy mashed potatoes, and Stovetop stuffing with sauteed celery and onions. My son and our friend who likes to come for Sunday dinner are watching old Rutger Hauer movies on this day that never got any brighter than twilight outside. I love grey days... I really do.

Whimsy and Hugs!