The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Thorny

The wee one has just begun her first day at school. Though not her official first day (it's a get acquainted day), it is the first time she has gone off to do something without me or her father, and so it is an emotional time for me. I did not cry when I left her there, but it felt weird to leave someone I love more than anything or anyone else in the hands of a relative stranger. Her teacher is widely known to be 'amazing', and that gives me some small comfort, but I keep imagining Katriona breaking down and sobbing when she realizes that her parents are not there, or having some sort of bathroom accident or lunch time debacle. I'm sure she'll be fine, though, and as usual, I'm being a drama queen because that's how I tend to roll.

M. is annoyed with me, mostly because I'm annoyed with him. Yesterday, on the way to the apple orchard, he remarked how the twisty, curvy roads on the island reminded him of the English countryside, and I said that yes, it reminded me of Ireland too. No, he said, there's a big difference. No, I said, it looks very similar. He would not let it go, and reminded me that I've never driven through the English countryside, to which I responded that he was correct, I hadn't, but I had driven through the southern half of Ireland, through the mountains and the farmlands, and this road put me in mind of those travels, so let's just let it rest. He would not, and I stopped talking because I was bored of trying to convince him of what I was seeing and feeling. Later on, he argued again about apple blight when I suggested he stop selecting apples just because they came off the branch easier. See the blights?, I asked him. That's not what we're going for, just pick apples that look unblemished and they will ripen naturally at home. For some reason, he didn't agree, and I snapped at him that yes (!), they will and yes, the roads of the island reminded me of Ireland.

Then, last night, there was the whole drama over getting the wee one's backpack for school ready. He labelled everything in the knapsack, even though I told him not to, only later discovering that he wasn't supposed to do it after reading the take home instruction sheet. He didn't understand the numbering of the lunch containers, and because to me it was basically idiot-proof, I kept my explanations short and sweet, which exasperated him and made him think I was the stupid one. He got up way earlier than he should have this morning, which made me wake up earlier than I would have liked, and I am now unreasonable and crabby. Because of this, when he laughingly told me about how Sarah Palin is a pilot, and that she actually owned her very own Piper Cub before selling it on Ebay, I scowled. Look, I said, men are idiots. Well, that's nice, he said haughtily. Really, I continued, for men to hold this woman up as some sort of icon just because she owned a plane and looks a certain way is plain idiocy.

At this point, he stalked upstairs and into his office.

I don't care much. I stand by my statement.

He's supposed to be taking me to lunch today, possibly to an Indian restaurant as he suggested last week, but he hasn't mentioned it so far and I wonder if he has forgotten or decided against it. Whatever. Right now I'm tired and crabby and curry won't solve the problem.

I made three dozen oatmeal chocolate chip cookies yesterday, as I had promised the wee one, and I also made homemade apple sauce and an apple pie. The pie was about as perfect as a pie can get, and I admit to dreaming up ways to justify making it my breakfast. The cookies are great too, moist enough to be almost chewy, and they are a perfect blend of butter and cookie. My legs hurt after three hours of cooking/baking yesterday, but it felt good to see the reward. Cooking is sort of my 'thing', in that most people I know tend to do it the easy way, but I actually sort of enjoy the chopping and the mixing and the smell of vegetables and fruit as I stir them in pots. This time of year is the best for it, with thick soups and the scent of cinnamon wafting through the house. I get the nesting instinct from the middle of September to the end of October, watching the colours bloom in the trees and the air become clean and clear. November is always grey and depressing, and December has become kind of stressful with Christmas becoming more of a chore than a holiday, so I soak up the loveliness of autumn, and hope that I store enough to get me through to spring.

I am tired, and need a nap so that I can maybe shake off my bitterness and move toward something like glee.