I'm sure I am not the only one that is happy that the midterm elections are over. Of course I'm gratified there was not a red wave, but I'm really relieved that my mail box and email are not flooded with political advertising and requests for donations. I just toss them in the trash and delete them, wholesale, from my email inbox. What a bother.
I voted early in Colorado. It's such a great system: I study the issues at home and while sitting at the kitchen table, mark my ballot. So sensible. I'm past the point in my life where I want to stand in line. I enjoy voting in the comfort of my home. Especially while the chicken roasts in the oven, infusing the house with the scent of Herbs de Provence. Lucy enjoys the organ meats, sautéed in a bit of Irish butter. I tried a bit of the liver. Yuck. I've made pate with chicken livers, but of course there's a ton of butter and a bit of cognac in there as well.
My antique sideboard arrived from Illinois today. I took a bit of a risk buying on line, but the seller has many excellent reviews. I like the way it looks with my parents' grandfather clock. It sits below the rug I acquired in Morocco. My decor is a bit eclectic, mixing modern with antique, art made by friends and new additions from my parents' collection. I just mix and match as I come into possession of something, There's never a grand plan. (Kind of like my wardrobe.)
That large light colored donut thing is Lucy's bed, which she adores. Most pampered chihuahua on the planet, she is.
The temperature has dropped considerably. It was 39 F when I went to pick up groceries at 3 p.m. I hadn't dressed appropriately and completely forgot gloves, so I was one chilly popsicle. When I returned home, I unloaded and then turned on the gas fireplace. I huddled next to it. Lesson learned. The weather is completely bizarro across the globe, and while I would normally be prepared in November in Colorado, so many friends have been reporting high temps that I completely forgot. Someday I think I will find warm places to go between January and March. I did the opposite of snowbirding when I moved to snow country three years ago. It's the power and the pull of grand children, don't you know?
I hope that you, too, are relieved that the elections are (mostly) over. We may breath again. For awhile.
