Still Life, With Cats

We trickle in to the restaurant slowly, over the course of half an hour or so. There is no rush; there is plenty to do while waiting for each other – cakes and pies and pastries to ogle in the bakery case, and catching up, one on one.

We ponder cookies and truffles and whether we should save room for dessert. We ponder the fact that the place has a ‘polenta of the day’. We ponder the menu and wonder how we are supposed to pick just one thing.

We order our food and find a table; the only one large enough for the group. This is especially challenging because we’re still not entirely sure how many people are coming, but we will make it work. We always do.

We eat pulled pork sandwiches and grilled shrimp caesar salads and giant cheeseburgers and butternut squash soup, and we sip our drinks, and in between bites we silently eye each other’s plates and think to ourselves ‘Hmm, maybe next time I will have to get what she is having,” and there is never any question that there will be a next time.

We chatter between bites, sharing stories about kids and pets; about families and jobs and travel and good things and bad. A chance meeting with a friend results in a surprise plate of cookies brought to our table and we finish our dinners and then nibble on delicate cookies crusted with bright green crystals of sugar. The cakes and pastries and truffles are forgotten.

There is laughter, because there is always laughter when we get together. There is knitting, because that is also a given too. We are surprised and instantly apologetic when a waiter comes over to let us know they’re closed, and we hastily gather our things, having completely lost track of time.

The air outside is cold, and in the time between when we arrived and when we left, there has been a bit of rain; just enough to cover the cars in a light sprinkle of individual drops. We call out our goodbyes to each other as we each head off in a different direction, climb into our cars, and head for home.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies.

The building in which I work prepares for a holiday by decorating. But it is done very, very slowly.

First, there was a tree. A fake one, obviously (less mess that way), all white and sparkly in the light of the building lobby. That went up shortly after Thanksgiving. Just a single tree.

Next came the ornaments – just a few here and there, over the course of a few days, until the tree was festooned  with a collection of beautiful red and gold and silver baubles. Here is where I admit to being a little bit jealous, since the only ornaments we can have on our tree at home are the sort of cheap plastic where if the cats (three of whom consider the Christmas tree an exciting jungle gym), or rather, *when* the cats break some, there is no great sense of loss.

Now that December has come, the decorating is kicked into higher gear. Yesterday someone hung garland – great, long strands of it around the ceiling. And tonight, as I walked out, I saw that the normally sterile ‘air lock’ between the two sets of entry doors had been transformed with holiday decor. The number of giant poinsettias on the floor has been slowly growing in number as the days pass. And at some point during the night an elf has been sneaking in and stenciling holiday cheer onto glass office doors.

I wonder if somewhere in this building there is a series of boxes, each labeled with a specific date. And if at some point someone devised a specific decoration schedule. Tree may only be erected on X date. Garland must not be hung until X days later. No poinsettias may be placed anywhere until two weeks in.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies.

There were a lot of things I needed to do today, before I headed off to sing.

There was laundry that needed doing. And dishes in the dishwasher that should have been put away. And a refrigerator that needs a good cleaning. And something on the floor over there that I probably do not want to investigate too closely (always a hazard in a house with cats). And knitting that needs to be finished. And…and…and.

But the past two days have been so busy. Work -paid and volunteer. Dress rehearsal and the first concert of the weekend. A five-hour marathon editing session.

So instead of doing the things that I should be doing, I did things I wanted to do instead.

I sat in my pajamas and caught up on my blog reading.

I drank a lot of  coffee.

I watched Rupert and Sherman scramble up the Christmas tree, one after the other, and was too late fetching my phone to get a picture.

I read four books on my tablet, one right after the other.

I ate leftover apple butter streusel cake.

And just for a few hours, I pretended that all the other things – the shoulds and the musts and the need-tos – were someone else’s problem.

‘Tis the season for Holidailies.