All morning, Dolly was worse than a little kid.
"Okay, while you're tending to the goats, I'll go downstairs and start on the Christmas tree." "No, Dolly. Let's wait and do it together." "Oh, all right."
I get back up from the barn. "Okay, can we go downstairs now?" "No, Dolly. This is sit in the sunshine and take a breather time." (It was not raining.)
"When can we go downstairs?" "Right after I get the turkey soup (finally, the last of the turkey!) started and the makings for Russian black bread into the machine. Then when we're done, dinner will be ready." "Oh. Well, fine." Dolly is a grownup and was able to withhold a pout.
It was shortly after noon when we headed out to the shed to get the boxed tree and tub of ornaments. We decided to hold off on the rest of the decorations that used to go up in years past, not knowing how long it would take to assemble the tree. That was a good decision. Turning up the Christmas music and lugging our baggage down the stairs, the first order of business was to light the gas fireplace. It was cold enough down there to give a person chilblains. It wouldn't light. It's been several years since anyone has spent any time downstairs, especially in winter. Both of us down on the floor with a flashlight, trying to light the pilot without success. Hunting upstairs and down, I could find the manuals for everything we'd ever purchased in the last twenty years...except the instructions for the fireplace. Fiddling with this switch and pushing that button didn't work and rather than risk blowing us up in a propane explosion, it was time to think of Plan B. I hated to disappoint Dolly, but Plan B started with abandoning the downstairs Plan A. "We'll find a place for another tree upstairs." Dolly was happy.
Rich soup and warm bread shared with a friend sitting next to a beautiful tree was a Plan and a Pleasure.
It was a good day.