I decided late Friday night that our Saturday morning would start with breakfast in a brown paper bag. With nothing on the agenda for our weekend, I was determined to start it off the right way --- a trip to Starbucks in my pjs, hands eager to welcome a warm cup of joe, poured ever so carefully into my first red holiday cup of the season. Lattes from Starbucks and bagels from Panera found their way to our kitchen table early Saturday morning, kicking off a weekend full of the finer things of this November life.
Isn't it incredible how susceptible we are to marketing? How just simply changing the color of a paper coffee cup can not only make your mouth water at the thought of a warm cup of something, but can literally define a season and give you that warm, fuzzy feeling of happiness at just the sight of it? I know I'm not the only one who feels this way about Starbucks' red holiday cups, as IG, Facebook, and the drive-thru line itself is exploding with red cheer right now. I remember one time last year, I left work in a snowstorm for a red cup of pick-me-up, only to find out that our local Starbucks had ran out. And if an onlooker were to have observed our conversation, they would have thought that the Grinch himself had arrived at Starbucks. Never mind that my peppermint mocha tasted the same as it would have in a red cup, it wasn't the same and it definitely wasn't instagram-worthy.
No, we are easily manipulated by our senses, and the changing of the seasons and its signature scents, tastes, and sights only emphasize this fact. Can you imagine peppermint in June, or coconut in January? Pumpkin spice for the 4th of July, or the smells of a barbecue grill on Christmas Eve night (don't answer that, Beau). Although I often take my senses for granted, some days they are working so hard I can't help but recognize their power. And this weekend it seems they were working overtime...
...I saw them in the early afternoon sunset at one of our favorite places, Alice Wyth Lake, and in the bright green color of paint that matched Cruz's dinosaur pjs. They were in the ray of sunshine cascading through our kitchen window as the three of us painted at the table, and in the stripes of fabric of Cruz's henley and favorite navy striped blanket as he slept on my chest in the recliner.
...I smelled them in the hickory bacon Beau had cured and smoked himself, and in the pile of leaves burning in our neighbor's backyard. They were there on our early-afternoon walk, in the trees, in the leaves, and in the fresh warm air that moved around us. They were in the top of Cruz's freshly bathed head as I rocked him to sleep, and they were most-definitely there as I sank my head in my pillow and inhaled the smell of line-dried bed sheets in the middle of November.
...I tasted them in my pumpkin pie bagel paired with hazelnut cream cheese, and in Cruz's warm and sweet chocolate chip muffie. They were alive in my buttery popcorn at the cozy movie theater, and in my favorite roast beef, gouda, and horseradish sandwich at Newton's Diner.
...I heard them in Cruz's laughter, in praise songs at church, and in the rain drops that danced on our roof on a cozy Sunday afternoon at home. I heard them in Beau's guitar, and Cruz's sea of bowls or 'drums' on the kitchen floor, and I heard them in Green Eggs and Ham just before bed.
And finally,
...I felt them, in the warm 70 degree breeze that graced us this November weekend, and in the cold pre-snow rain that fell just hours later as we made our way into church. I felt them in a new soft sweater, in the sweet little breaths against my chest as I snuggled Cruz to sleep, and in the warmth and coziness of the movie theater as we introduced our Cruz Man to the big screen for the very first time.
To which he loved, by the way.
It was a much-welcomed weekend at home, and a much-needed opportunity to take a deep breath and soak up the details of everyday life. I know I say this a lot, but it seems November is flying by abnormally fast, and it's hard to believe Thanksgiving is just a little over a week away. And although I'm quite excited to reopen our box of Christmas traditions and let the season swoop in like a January snowstorm, another part of me wishes these easy weekends without a whole lot on the agenda would stick around awhile longer. Easy mornings in pajamas, long afternoon cuddles on the couch, and bed sheets drying on the clothesline (in November, mind you!) are just too good to wish away...
Cheers to the week ahead. Happy slow time to you all...
No comments:
Post a Comment