A quiet Sunday here. Went to Mass and then directly afterward to donate blood (the vampires called again.) Theirs is an amazingly disorganized operation, but worthwhile, so I deal with it even though it really shouldn't take 90 minutes (from walking in the door to walking out the door) to donate a pint of whole blood. Ugh. Petunia enjoys coming with me for some reason, probably because she gets a cupcake or cookie afterward too, so I always bring her along: she has the same high-demand blood type that I do anyway, so it's good that she gets familiar with the donation process and learns that it isn't scary from a young age.
Time now to cook, to fill the house with good smells to go along with the crackle and woodsmokiness of the fire that Himself started for me while I was out on my fools' errand. (Who says that true love must only manifest itself in grand gestures?? Only this morning, I noticed that he had also turned on my car seat's heater for me while I wasn't looking.)
Chili, a roast of pork, perhaps a loaf of bread. I am ashamed to say that my bread is made in a machine, not by hand, but no matter: the aroma is almost the same and these fingers have not yet really gotten the hang of the kneading process. One of these years...we all need a goal or two!