Winter. As the snow falls I sit in my (new) upstairs New York style apartment. I sip tea that I made in response to mother nature's blessing (of the flu.) And I study. Not in between the covers of a book, mind you. But in between the covers of my life.
These polished wooden floors nearly beg to have furniture re-arranged on top of them, and a makeshift living room transformed into a makeshift dance floor. The most sappy, cliche, Christmas songs play in the background of the night. And as the couch and ottoman stand against the wall with their heads turned, a couple dances across the dining room, past the vase of cheap flowers he bought her, and into the kitchen.
Just because Lois Armstrong is soloing silent night now, doesn't mean that George Strait won't be next on the playlist. One dance will wear him out, because he probably has the flu, but it will be ok. The reason why it will be ok? Because he didn't buy the Christmas cookies on the stove, she made them. From scratch? No. But she made them nonetheless. And he likes that.
Because you see my friends, when all is said and done, cookies fresh out of the oven are far better than last years....that he bought at Walmart.
Dance. Love. Bake. and Listen.
Happy Holidays friends. enjoy the snow!
: )
