Happy Monday! How blessed we are to have made it to the last day of the year. What did you accomplish this year? What did you almost accomplish this year? As some prepare to create New Year’s resolutions, I think it’s equally – if not more – important to reflect upon the goals you planned to obtain this year. And as I reflect on what has been accomplished and those few things that were almost realized, I hear my mother’s voice quoting something she often shared with us:
Almost cannot avail; Almost is but to fail! Sad, sad, that bitter wail- Almost, but lost!
I don’t create new year resolutions. I do, however, choose goals just prior to my January birthday to accomplish during my next trip around the sun. As I begin making that list, I will begin with the previous year’s almosts that they are accomplished first because I am determined to not live a life filled with a bunch of almosts.
What did you almost accomplish this year that you can complete today?
What did you almost accomplish that must be accomplished next year?
I’m not wasn’t a huge fan of oysters and even before we adopted a mostly-vegan diet, I pretty much stayed away from bacon. Even only having rare occasions of bacon consumption, I can still attest that anything bacon-wratpped does taste better – though it doesn’t always justify the exponential increase in caloric intake. This past summer before we bought our beloved juicer and all things changed, one of my brothers insisted that we try the bacon-fried oysters at Pier 23 Cafe. And so we did on a beautiful San Francisco summer day, with perfectly cold Pacificos and a priceless backdrop.
It’s a chilly and very rainy day here in North Carolina – you know the kind perfectly made for tea, a blanket, a movie and a bowl of soup. As the first lightning illuminated the dark afternoon sky and thunder rumbled the area just before a seemingly torrential downpour, I was reminded of Maya Angelou’s This Winter Day.
This Winter Day
The kitchen is its readiness white green and orange things leak their blood selves in the soup.
Ritual sacrifice that snaps an odor at my nose and starts my tongue to march slipping in the liquid of its drip.
The day, silver striped in rain, is balked against my window and the soup.
To awaken on another day and see the sun break the darkness of night; to hear the excited shrills of the kids we love; to witness eyes widen as gifts are opened; to have the activity of our limbs and be of good health to play the new games with which the young ones have been blessed; to have more than enough to help those who don’t have enough – we are blessed.
We wish each of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah and a Happy Kwanzaa.