Barbara J. Hamby

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Smug Time

We had a fire this afternoon in the fireplace and it worked well. We burned a fancy log made of mysterious ingredients that burned approximately three hours, as promised. Prior to lighting it, I discovered the damper has been open ever since I moved in. No wonder I could smell cigarette smoke from time to time with all the doors and windows closed. After the “log” was consumed, I burned two years of credit union statements and paid bills. I still have a bag of shredded paper to burn, but that shouldn’t take long. There is nothing like a fire on a drizzly, breezy day to furnish a little cheer, as well as dry heat.

I’m feeling disgustingly smug tonight after a conversation with my son, who will be cooking most of our family Thanksgiving dinner. He first learned to cook a limited repertoire when he was about ten. He made his own recipe book for meat loaf and macaroni and cheese, I believe. I can’t recall any other recipes, but maybe he can. Over the years, his cooking has become much more sophisticated and gourmet style. We talked about the menu for our celebration and also discussed the results of the election. His cell phone “dropped” our conversation at that point. Hmmm, Big Brother?

Over the same years, my cooking has deteriorated due to lack of practice and lack of interest. If everything makes you fat, why bother?

I also talked to my daughter today, who will be selling her craft products at a church bazaar tomorrow. She makes a variety of colorful holiday and everyday items. She also makes beautiful wedding cakes and other decorated cakes for various functions. She will be doing the desserts for the family Thanksgiving meal.

It’s possible I’ll have to do little more than set the table and serve the food. I can live with that

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