We all judge our coffee by it's color (unless we drink it black). When the color is right, we stop pouring the cream. Too white and the stuff is too milky to drink. Too dark and it is bitter.
We all know to pull the cake from the oven when its aroma reaches the living room. Sure, we grab a toothpick and poke it, because the cookbook tells us to, but we already know.
The holidays are coming. For you, the signs mights be glaringly obvious, but over here we must rely on our keener senses. The leaves don't change color, there are no toy commercials on TV (there is no TV at all), and there are no cornucopia decals in the window at Wendy's (as if there were a Wendy's).
But nonetheless, I can feel them coming. My cinnamon and nutmeg are whispering back and forth to each other in the pantry, as if gearing up for the game. People are discussing who is hosting a meal next week and who will be a tupperware-toting guest. Should we go with a marshmallow topping or a pecan topping on the sweet potato casserole? How about one of each? Should we make sure there are two pumpkin pies or should we change things up with a chocolate cream pie? Is an 8 kilo turkey going to be big enough? Why, oh why did my bread machine have to keel over this week? Such unfortunate timing. Even as I say it, there are happy jitters in my voice, because I have stocked up on butter and flour and sugar and THE HOLIDAYS ARE COMING!
The holidays aren't the only expected visitors. No siree. Tomorrow, our dear, dear friends the Heddens will arrive after a 17 hour train ride from our former city, to stay with us until Friday! Yahoo! There will be much coffee-drinking and cake-eating and pajama-wearing, and tear-crying and story-telling and time-enjoying. Having friends-that-feel-like-family visiting from out of town really makes it feel like the holidays!
I think I just heard a whoop and holler from the cinnamon and the nutmeg.