I had two blog posts spinning around in my head for today.  One was an indignant post based on a tiny advertisement on the front page of yesterday’s local newspaper.  It was less than 2 inches square and it said:

Balsam Wreaths
Decorated with your color choice of velvet bow

From the same florist who had nothing for me last week, remember?

The other blog post I thought about writing was how I made peace with my inner Martha.  Remember Martha?  From Bethany, sister of Lazarus and Mary.  She was the one who was busy cooking and cleaning.  The Bible says “but Martha was distracted with much serving.”  I contemplated how I could weave Martha Stewart into the post and make some meaningful modern parable.

But I just couldn’t muster up the strength to be snarky today.

Instead, I’m righting the ship of house, somberly putting things in place while loving yesterday’s leftovers.  I’m laughing a little too, thinking about my humble and beautiful Thanksgiving.  There were rich things like an early morning text from Jaxon, saying “I’m going to be buying a buffet soon” as we discussed how to best curate our dinner and dessert tables.  A golden nugget arrived in Wednesday’s mail with a letter from my old friend Samantha, reminding me that every day is Thanksgiving, “is it not, girl?”

Things don’t get much more “Martha” than falling asleep in your apron on Thanksgiving Day night, though, and because of this and so much more, there will be no snark today.  I do encourage silent contemplation on this grocery item I spotted in my travels.

We’ll reconvene here on Monday, the first Monday of Advent, and we can discuss the merits and abominations of packaged cake mix.

As dear Martha Stewart might say “It’s a good thing.”