mise en place

From the French, a culinary phrase defined as “everything in place," referencing preparation and layout in kitchens.

It is time to put myself in order. It is almost a new year. It is almost another new beginning.

One more box left to unpack. Clean the clutter off the work table. Stock the cupboards with food. Make soup to freeze. Wash the blankets that have stayed hidden over the summer. Bring out the knit hats and mittens.

I made a schedule yesterday of before work tasks and after work tasks in an attempt to remember my pilates and yoga. I have pared my wardrobe down to five basic outfits with interchangeable parts.

I still have too many shoes, but that’s one vice I refuse to give up. One of two vices. Bourbon hot toddies do help in the winter months.

Cold weather gear will be ordered this weekend, along with boxed postcard sets, stamps, and an immersion blender. I have set up my glass jar savings accounts. I’m as ready for winter as I’ll ever be.

It is time to strip my altar and start over. Time to pause and begin again. Time to seek stability in trees.

Next week I go to say hello again to the Octopus Tree. Maybe this time I will climb the do not climb fence and ask her face to face for the help I need. Help forming the questions that should have been asked long ago. Help hearing the answers that are most likely already rattling around in my head.

I’m dressing up as a witch for Halloween. But I can’t decide on my hat. Do I sew one? Or knit one? Or buy a cheap one that might last the day? Do I copy the image of what a witch looks like to others? Or do I dress the way I know my own Trickster Witch looks?

This afternoon I figured out what I’ve been doing wrong every time I’ve tried to knit in the round. A small error, really. But one that kept things from joining up. One that kept the piece from being a connected whole. But I found the order of it. And now I’m three rows into my very first hat. Quite possibly my Witch’s hat. We will see.

And everything will have a place.