Domesticity

I haven't ventured outside the house today - other than to retrieve the dog from the backyard, which I don't think really counts - and I'm perfectly happy about it. I spent a few hours this morning finishing a story for work; it actually wasn't too painful, since I'd started it yesterday afternoon and had some momentum going. Darren and I came up with a grocery list for the week, or at least the first several days; he shopped while I put away my clothes from last week's laundry, plus the THREE suits I had to wear last week and apparently couldn't bring myself to hang up when I took them off. (This is Maine, for cryin' out loud; a large part of why I love it here is the casual nature of the place. It's rare that I wear a suit even once a month, so three in one week - three days in a row - was more than a bit much.)

Darren took off for what turned out to be an aborted kayaking trip (too windy). While he was gone, I made a pan of stuffed shells for my friend with a new baby and ALS. We'll take that over, along with some gifts for the baby, tomorrow.

And I also got some carraway bread going in the breadmaker for dinner - a soup of beets and turnips that will also use up a leek or two, some dill and even a potato, I think, along with a green salad made a bit spicy with some late arugula. My sister, E., and her boyfriend, P., and Lucy are coming over in a few hours for dinner and to watch the Sox-Yankees game. I hate to disclose this knowing Carter may be reading, but my sister and I are fans of the team he refers to as the Hated Yankees. (I grew up in New Jersey; my dad, as a little kid, met Mickey Mantle; and I went to my first game a few days after Therman Munson died, when I was seven. So I'm a genuine Yankee fan, not some Jeter-lover-come-lately.)

In any case, living in New England as we do, E. and I have ended up with die-hard Sox fans for significant others. That makes this time of year a little tense in our respective households. The plan for tonight involves a lot of beer, and probably not much conversation once the game begins. (Darren is already wearing both his Pedro Martinez jersey and his Red Sox visor.) At some point I'll have to write about my fascination with the deeply held angst and foreboding of New England sports fans... in the meantime, check out The Soxaholix, which explains the situation pretty well. (Thanks, Carter!)

Anyway, after I finish here, I've got to change the sheets on our bed and finish washing the last few windows upstairs, so I can cross that item off the long-term to-do list. All of this work -- even from my paying job -- feels very satisfying today. I'm enjoying putting the house in order, smelling the aroma of stuffed shells and rye bread, and knowing that I'm finally making some progress on reconnecting with my friend. Simple stuff - and perhaps that's why it's so rewarding.