stash

This has been a good weekend for the most part. It's bright and sunny, snows are melting some, I'm at home relaxing, I have a number of new books to read (as if I didn't have lots already), and I've got all sorts of food to go make if I feel like it. I also have lots of tissue paper and such to make paper flowers with. (My current obsession, which is fueled by a party I'm going to in two weeks.)

But the one thing that is missing today is my little food monger. I was picking up dishes and found a piece of cinnamon toast. I was about to nibble it myself and then thought better of it - someone else would like this more than I would. I could picture the twitching nose and glistening eyes, watching me from behind the other side of the glass, waiting for me to come to my senses and share. So I relented, only to realize as I picked up the toast that she's not there anymore. Yet, still, I could very clearly imagine her grabbing the toast from my hand with her little hands, immediately biting into it, whiskers shaking, mouth chewing, eyes blinking every few seconds, the toast being turned in her hands as she went.

So I ate it for her. She would have loved it. Crunchy now, having sat out for a while; sweet cinnamon bursting with a hint of buttery salt which permeated the texture with flavour. Her cage is still sitting on the other side of the room, untouched. I cannot bring myself to clean it out, even though it's an eyesore without the life within it. It's funny, actually, to realize how messy having critters can be. I never notice it until they leave the cage behind.

Dale's off sugaring today. I think I'm going to go fry up some corned beef hash with our leftover St. Patrick's Day dinner. Sounds really yummy to me right now. Then I'm going to curl up with a book and sip tea until he gets home. Come to think of it, he might get home before I get to that point. If so, I might do paper flowers instead. The tea stays.

~nv