Grace in Small Things: #33, 34, 35

#33 - A perfect ice cream sandwich on a hot Friday afternoon: peanut butter cookies with vanilla ice cream.

#34 - The imminent three day weekend.

#35 - Steve Reich on endless repeat.

Grace in Small Things: The Winter Edition

#28 - A pair of plain wool gloves in the pockets of every coat I might want to wear, so they’re at the ready when and if I want or need them.

#29 - Capacious pockets, well-deployed, for the afore-mentioned gloves and because I hate carrying a purse and as long as you're wearing a coat, you might as well have good pockets.

#30 - Waterproof boots, for tromping through snow and stepping carelessly in the inevitable slush puddles that form in the gutter on every NYC corner.

#31 - Hot apple cider at the Union Square Greenmarket.

#32 - Electric mattress pads, because there is nothing so glorious as climbing into a pre-heated bed.

Grace #27: Found Dialogue

I amuse myself. Or the folks that choose the movies for the theater downstairs, coupled with the worker dude who climbs up and moves the little plastic letters around, they amuse me.

Scene: Manhattan street corner

Joe, dejected: "Hangover."
Jane, mocking: "Imagine that!"
Joe, irritated: "Drag me to hell, terminator."

Grace #26 - Creel

If I may say so myself, I have the coolest bicycle basket ever. We went for a ride today, twelve miles along a former train line now paved for non-motorized recreation - and no one, not nobody, had as nice a basket.

It was my idea, and my creel, but my clever husband fabricated the cunning aluminum support structure that attaches the creel to the bicycle.

The only thing missing today was a nice goat cheese and tomato sandwich. Next time, we'll bring lunch.

Graces #13-25 = Thirteen Graces

13. Mail order coffee on auto-delivery.
    
14. The fact that my bluetooth headset never seems to need to be charged.
    
15. Grapefruit cologne.
    
16. When strangers pronounce my last name correctly.
    
17. Aglaia.
    
18. Euphrosyne.
    
19. Thalia.
    
20. Introducing the child to Bringing Up Baby, a movie with dinosaurs AND sharp-toothed animals, not to mention Katharine Hepburn.
21. The smell of warm rain on wet grass.
22. A job where I need not wear shoes in the office.
    
23. Picking arugula that I grew myself.
    
24. Mock Sancerre.
    
25. Internet friends who turn into real life friends, and take pictures of your childhood.
    

Graces #8 to 12 - Spring

#8
The smell of the flowers on the pachysandra - before yesterday, I never knew that pachysandra in bloom had such a lovely, sweet fragrance.

#9
Free compost from the town dump - I love the dump, I love that they take leaves and other garden waste, and turn it into rich, beautiful compost for the taking. We made three trips, and top-dressed all of the perennial beds.

#10
The joy of the child as she ran through the sprinkler, dug in the dirt, mixed up mud, "saved" worms, and helped me to plant seeds.

#11
How nicely my rhubarb is thriving - my neighbor gave me a piece in full leaf at the end of last summer, while they were packing up to move, and I was worried that it wouldn't take.

#12
The gorgeous salmon pink of the flowering quince in full bloom - I don't care that Dirr finds it "over-rated", in its moment of glory it is a beautiful thing (and the deer and the bunnies don't eat it).

Grace #7 - Breakfast in Bed

We scarpered off this weekend, to my father's house, where there is nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Saturday morning, I was delivered breakfast in bed, by the five year old, who had made me "fire-toasted bread" - with supervision, she'd toasted a piece of rye bread in the fireplace. She was delighted with herself, and I eventually went downstairs to tell her father that this was the parenting moment I'd been waiting for.

Grace #6 = Tea and Cubans

There's a tiny coffee stand in the train station in my town. It's tucked into what was the luggage room back in the day (the station was built in 1902), and it's run by an ebullient bald Israeli man, who has catholic tastes in music. I don't stop in often, maybe once every couple of weeks, but I always walk out with a smile. This morning I picked up a cup of tea, and a "roll with Israeli butter", chatted with him about the Buena Vista Social Club record he was blasting, and got the day started off just right.

Graces #4 & 5 = Warmth

#4: A very warm coat on a very cold day (thanks Lands' End, for my olive drab "commuter" coat, which fits perfectly, has great pockets, and looks like East German army surplus).

#5: An unasked for ride to the train from a heretofore unknown neighbor (thanks Barbara, for going out of your way after getting stuck behind the school bus I was putting my child on).

Grace #3 = The windows are open!

It's 61° in NYC right now, and it is a distinct pleasure to sit in my office, with the window open not six feet away, especially because it was in the teens but a week ago.

Grace #2 = Flowers on a Snow Day

I almost never buy flowers. I'm generally too abstemious to spend money on that kind of frivolity. But a couple of weeks ago, in the supermarket, at the urging of the girlie, I bought a $5.99 pot of daffodils, sprouted but barely even in bud. They've sat on the kitchen table since then, and we've watched them grow, seen the buds develop, guessed which one was going to open first.

Mad's in the throes of renovating her kitchen and today queried as to decorating tastes. My house is your basic eclectic mix, but I find the kitchen eating area very pleasing. It wasn't planned, it just fell into place. There are lots of casement windows with white painted wood work, green paint on what little wall there is, an old dark wood table, green chairs from Ikea, blue/green tapestry placemats, and a green pot holding the afore-mentioned pot of daffodils, now on their last legs.

I highly recommend potted bulbs in the mid-winter - it brings grace indoors, even on a snow day.

Grace #1 = Hand-Me-Downs

I love hand-me-downs. I love that clothes get used to the best of their ability, that many children wear a given item, that things stay out of the landfill for a while.

Last week, we got a box in mail from my cousin, with a bunch of dresses and shirts and leotards and tights, all outgrown by her little girl. I know that the hand-me-downs went back and forth among my cousins when I was a kid; now they're migrating among the second cousins.

And recently, though coincidentally, I shipped off some of Mir's old clothes to a neighbor, to a blog friend, and to an old friend (who reminded me that she grew up wearing my hand-me-downs). Another batch was delivered to some people who were collecting kid's clothes for a nearby maximum security women's prison, under the aegis of the pre-inauguration Day of Service.

Hand-me-downs come with love, and serendipity, and grace.