Aye, Cabrona! Day 19

I realized why my red bearded, Irish heritage, white boy husband needed a Mexican wife. How the hell else could he understand Cheech and Chong?

What I'm getting at is that I need more nights like this. Outside. On the porch. 4pm. Fire going. Dinner in the oven. Spirits flowing. And the universe is spending her energy on me. I think she knew I needed this.

I needed to forget that I have presents to wrap. And a stack of cards in my purse that need stamps. Fudge to be made. A craving for an attempt to make my own lemon curd.

I'm focused on my son declaring he's drunk because he polished off an open bottle of ginger beer. Basically, he's sugar high. I improvised and toasted a pack of stale peeps that was pushed to the back of the pantry. Then we had to finish off the Dilly Bars that were a blast from my past. Don't, we filled up on lasagna before the sugar fairy paid us a visit.

For every down, there's an up. It's hard to see when you're at the bottom, failing to see the sunrise. But the sun always rises, even on the darkest of mornings.

The solstice is looming. I've been thinking about why this season is such a drag. Its busy, busy, busy with little time to enjoy. In our rear view we used this time to enjoy the fruits of our labor. Fall was a time to prepare for the winter. And in winter we were supposed to rest up for the toils of spring. Maybe this is why I'm so drawn to history lately. It's a pleasant escape from the high tech, high stress now. I long to have a slow end to fall and feast to the upcoming winter. Tile logs offering up our hopes, dreams and desires for what lies ahead.

Maybe Christmas won't be so bad. I just have to remember to look towards the sunrise now and then. Darkness is never forever.