early mornings.

I laid there thinking, I need to address Anders’ birthday party invitations. I should really work on a gift guide. I want coffee. And so I just got up, hoping that the time was a more reasonable 5ish than any earlier. Upon entering the kitchen, I discovered it was 5:30. Perfect. (Our only clock is on the other side of the bed, across three sleeping human beings, and it’s a clock you have to tap to have illuminate. Clarifying in case “umm, ever heard of a nightstand clock,” entered your mind.) As I was reaching for my absolute favorite mug though, another one, stacked precariously on top of it (with no one to blame for the poor positioning then myself), fell and chipped it. I have mugs that I hate, and have hated for years, that I’ve never chipped. Not one chip on the stupid things, and when I buy a mug I actually love, it’s chipped within a month. Isn’t that how it goes? I cursed to myself quietly, so as not to wake the house, and then decided the mug has more character this way. (Lies.) I’m drinking my coffee out of it now.

How are you feeling, women? I feel like it’s a safe question to pose to women as, they are 99% (nay, even 100%) of my readership, and also they are the superheroes of this time of year. I’m sorry, men. We love you, we will always love you, but women possess a certain magic that allows us to make everything work for everyone and fit 18 hours of work into a 10 hour time slot. Isn’t it true, though? Who’s taking care of us, dammit?

Side note: for my birthday, my Mom got me a massage gift certificate and Steve got me a facial gift certificate and so, I guess those two are taking care of me. However, booking and going to the appointments is another thing entirely and can somehow be put off for years. I won’t do it! I won’t. I’m going.

I have a steel cut oatmeal breakfast coming to pressure right now, I can hear it simmering away before that little button officially seals and the whole process becomes silent. My sister has been raving about it, so we’ll see. I accidentally added the brown sugar at the beginning, so the whole thing may be a bust. And it’s been said before but bears repeating… an Instant Pot isn’t really so instant. Coming to pressure is a very real thing and adds a good ten to twenty minutes to your cook time. And so, this is the first morning I’ve given it a go. Normally some sliced apples and peanut butter, or scrambled eggs is about all I’ve got time for.

Update: It was okay, but nothing to write home about. (Though, I also didn’t follow the recipe to a T so…?)

I’m reading Do Less, and I am very interested to hear how it’s going to change my life. I dare you, Kate Northrup. Try me. I’ve been hearing myself, since maybe September, say how busy I am. I think it, I say it, and both too often. I’m not going through my laundry list of tasks with everyone who will listen, fear not, because that is the most boring, tired conversation ever and who has time for that, but I am busy, while still not being absolutely certain that I’m utilizing my time in the best ways possible. I’m hoping this book will help.

Some books we’re reading to the kids this month: November by Cynthia Rylant, Thanksgiving by Miriam Nerlove, This is the Feast by Diane Shore, Tattered Sails by Verla Kay, Thanksgiving in the Woods by Phyllis Alsdurf, Thanksgiving: a Harvest Celebration by Julie Stigemeyer