The Simple Woman’s Daybook: December 7, 2009

Out­side my win­dow … light rain is com­ing down. It is only 35 degrees and there are reports of snow all over the region, although I have not yet seen any fall.

I am think­ing … I wish I could build a fire, make some hot cocoa, light the Christ­mas tree, curl up with a book, and enjoy a cozy, lazy day at home where it is warm. But I must go to work, so I will have to brave the traf­fic and road conditions.

I am thank­ful for … my job, home, and all the asso­ci­ated bless­ings. My bills are paid. A gen­tle­man was just inter­viewed on the local news broad­cast. The reporter asked him if he would be going to work today, con­sid­er­ing the dan­ger­ous con­di­tions on the roads. He responded, “No, I am one of the sta­tis­tics. I am unem­ployed, so I can stay home today and not have to worry about get­ting to work.” The reporter looked embar­rassed and I imme­di­ately said a prayer for that man and his fam­ily, fol­lowed by a prayer of thanks for my own circumstances.

I am wear­ing … a nightshirt.

I am remem­ber­ing … the day it snowed lightly and we all ran out of our com­mu­nity col­lege class­rooms to catch snowflakes on our tongues. The snow melted as soon as it hit the ground, so we did not remain out­doors long enough to build a snow­man. Classes resumed pretty quickly. That was about 30 years ago, and is the last time I remem­ber see­ing snow in this area.

I am going … to have to get dressed soon and ven­ture out in the rain.

I am cur­rently read­ing … short sto­ries and arti­cles. I am not read­ing a par­tic­u­lar book at the moment.

I am hop­ing … for a safe com­mute to work and that the day goes quickly so that I can get back home to my warm house, Christ­mas tree, and a com­fort­able, relax­ing evening in front of a crack­ling fire.

On my mind … the amount of work I need to fin­ish over the course of the next two weeks before I enjoy some vaca­tion time over the holidays.

Notic­ing that … the rain seems to have stopped alto­gether, at least for now.

Pon­der­ing these words … “We search for every­thing we believe we don’t have, not know­ing that every­thing we are look­ing for is already inside us. We are born with it.” (Don Miguel Ruiz)

From the kitchen … not a crea­ture is stir­ring yet. The room is dark and quiet. I haven’t even entered that room yet this morning.

Around the house … there is quiet except for the sound of my com­puter keys and the weather reports being broad­cast on the local tele­vi­sion station.

One of my favorite things … is spend­ing a few quiet moments by myself in my quiet house each morn­ing before get­ting dressed and fac­ing the demands of the day.

A photo I am shar­ing today:

To see the list of other par­tic­i­pants and read their thoughts for today, visit Grand­mother Wren.

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