York in Winter

The weather today is forecast to be mostly sunny, with a high of 70 degrees -- here. In York, the beautiful walled city in northern England, the high is 44, and they are warning about possible disruptions to travel due to rain. And yet, I am completely infatuated with the idea of being there, not here.

I have it all worked out. First floor condo, or maybe attached home. I thought about a little stone cottage but the stone is hard to warm up, and we are done with yard work. We need a bit of a garden, so we have a place to hang out our laundry, but I'm looking for easy.

I'm sitting in my comfy chair, feet up. Is the chair covered in a floral chintz? Is that too twee? I like the idea of soft cotton under my fingers, and bright colors, so I'm not sure. My feet are up, I have a soft quilt on my lap, the dog is snoozing on the sofa. (Yes, I know he's supposed to be on the floor. But he's sleeping on the sofa in actual fact right now, and I don't see myself teaching him otherwise. Even in my fantasy life.)

This is Archie. He's not supposed to sleep on the blanket or the pillow. His head is on the right.

n the afternoon, the little girl who lives next door will come over. Her mom needs a little extra time, especially this time of year, maybe to get some shopping in, or possibly to get some wrapping done. I know I never had enough time when my kids were little, so I'm providing supplemental grandmother time. We'll bake up a batch of Christmas cookies, and  the three of us will decorate them. I invented a technique of decorating when my kids were little; we use paint brushed to paint the frosting on the cookie, giving a lot of control to the kids. And in the end, what's important is how they taste, not whether they look like they came from a bakery. We send a lot of the cookies home with her, but we also package up a tin for the young couple that live next door. If the rain holds off, we'll run them over together when the lights come on next door.

When the last batch of cookies come out of the oven, I throw a "noodle bake" into the oven. Because leading with "noodle" makes kids happier than the word "casserole." I don't know why. Science must have the answer. We can have noodles for dinner (I should probably throw a veg in when I make up the casserole), then send her back home to her mum for bed.

We take the dog out for his last walk of the night. The air is frigid. I make him wear booties and a rain coat, as he is a southern California dog, and not accustomed to icey toes. We have to dash for the door.

The rain starts beating against the window. It's not cold enough for ice.

I prepare a hot water bottle, so I don't have to slip into a freezing cold bed. My husband is more of a night owl than I am, and he stays up late more often than I do, so I pamper myself with heat. I fall asleep to the sound of the rain.