Semi-Daily Scribbles

Sara refuses to reuse bags, bottles, jars, twist ties, aluminum roasting pans and pie tins. The list goes on, actually. These handful of items are just the ones Sara was going to toss today until I intercepted the bounty. It's Christmas, for crying out loud. Some of those bags are plain, brown grocery type with nice handles. Pull out my art supplies and PRESTO! I've got better-than-store-bought gift bags. Jars? I fill them with homemade soup or cookie mixes. Bottles? Homemade liqueurs of course! And since I'm the cook for a ragtag band of misfits with no homes to go to for the holidays, throw away tins (foil too!) are used until scorched and hole-y. Sara is my friend, and I've invited her to turkey dinner with us Castaways–a very exclusive club:)–more than once. She declines every year. I'm not even sure where she goes when she turns me down (which, by the way, I told her hurts my feelings), but she makes a big show of running all over town picking up supplies at the last minute for her mystery feast. I could spare her the headache. All Sara'd have to do is show up at my place. She wouldn't even have to bring anything. She knows this. It's really the only gift I wish for when December comes around.