Remember the days of having play date with your friends, or being out at recess with them, and having a conversation like this: "what do you want to do?" "I don't know, what do you want to do?" Well, if I was having a play date right now, and my friend asked me what I wanted to do, here's what it would be (in no particular order):
1. I want to go to my house on the lake, the one that is at the end of a long, quiet, tree-lined gravel road, fix a cup of coffee, and sit out at the end of the dock and just watch stuff. I'd like to sit and watch the leaves change colors. I'd like to sit and watch little ripples in the water. I'd like to listen to the birds talk to each other. I'd like to throw a rock into the glassy-calm water and listen to the splash.
2. I want to take an hour this evening and sit down with my personal chef. I'd like to review the menu for the next two weeks, highlighting the days in particular that I need dinner ready the second I walk in the door. I'd also like said chef to start packing my lunches for me, and to be a little more creative with the offerings. I'd also like the said chef to have an associate head out to the above-mentioned lake house and begin preparing for my arrival.
3. I want to put my kids' books away this evening, and send a note in to the teacher explaining that we decided to take the night off, and we need an extra week to complete the assignments, and that in the meantime we'd appreciate no more work being assigned so it didn't continue to pile up.
4. I want to go to the gym tonight, after I meet with my chef, and sit on one of those bikes that you can recline in the seat, put my book up on the bookholder, and peddle slowly enough that it doesn't interrupt my reading. And then walk out of the gym 20 minutes later and 10 pounds lighter.
5. I've read somewhere before that the Queen, THE Queen, has her bedding changed twice a day. When she gets up in the morning, the bed is stripped and fresh bedding goes down. Later in the day, she gets into bed and takes a nap. When she rises from her nap, the bed is stripped again and fresh bedding goes down. Doesn't that sound lovely? So I want to talk to talk to my people about changing my bedding more frequently. I also want them to start scheduling a daily nap for me. With fresh bedding.
6. I want to go to that cute little white chapel that is near my house at the lake. I want to sit inside that chapel, all by myself. I want to sit on a polished wooden pew, in a little patch of sunlight from the sun coming in through a stained-glass window. I want to listen to the sound of nothing while I'm there. I want to stare up at the ceiling. I want to wonder about all the stories that chapel could tell, if it could talk to me. I want to hear all about times hope had been restored within its walls. All the miracles that took place or began there. All the relationships that were restored there. All the marriages that began there. All the goodbyes that were said there.
7. I want to buy one of those old, yellowed cookbooks at the bookstore. One that had a hand-written inscription from a mom. I want to learn all about that cookbooks life. What kitchens had it lived in through the years? What meals had come from that book? Who had learned to cook at their mother's side while reading that book? I'm sure I could hear some great stories from an old cookbook.
8. I want to bake pies. A whole bunch of pies. I heard of the cutes ways of making pies in jars, freezing them to bake later. I think I will be trying that soon (for real!) and seeing how it works. But I want to bake a peach pie right now. I want to make "sticky pies" (spoken with a heavy-Texan accent) with all my dough scraps. Then I want to eat the sticky pies all by myself. Then once that has settled, I'd like a nice, warm hunk of peach pie. Maybe with my cup of coffee on the dock at the lake??
That's what I want to do.