We are now well into the gale, though I suspect it will subside by the evening. The wind is blowing from the Southwest, the roughest of directions for boats traveling from the mainland; however, our mailboat did come and go this morning, as usual. While I did wake up by five-thirty, I did not make biscotti. Waking has not come easily of late, so I was pleased that I managed to grab my computer and read my preferred liberal news rag- but getting up to make biscotti? Realistically it wasn't going to happen. Instead I had three and a half hours to do laundry, dishes, work on my Halloween costume, and bake oatmeal raisin cookies, which seemed far more reasonable.

It was solidly dark out while I soaped up dishes from the day before and started the first load of wash. I threw on NPR, and got on with a leisurely morning. An early start is always worth the effort, and today I was rewarded, in a fashion. As I sifted together the dry ingredients for the cookies, I realized that I had recently used the last of my cinnamon, and that I had no back up. When I went to the store yesterday, I remembered to stock up on vanilla extract (which was reaching low levels), but I had entirely forgotten about the cinnamon bottle I had emptied for the last batch of cookies, and then placed back on the spice shelf. I am quite self-sufficient you see- I don't need a man or children to put empty containers back on shelves or in the fridge, I can cover that myself.

By the time I had reached the cinnamon stage of the baking process, the sun was up and the world was awash in soft morning light that shifted as the gale tore clouds across the sky. I headed first to my absent neighbor's house, certain I could procure the necessary spice. Much to my shock, her back door was locked. Feeling some righteous indignation, I discounted her house all together; I was not going to put in the effort of untying her front gate so that I could enter her (probably unlocked) front door. I wasn't yet ready to use the phone or face anyone, so I went back to my house, grabbed the key to the school, a coat to throw over my cardigan, and headed down the hill.

I did have to see someone, the teacher, and then minutes later, our ed tech. But I am so accustomed to them, the encounter did little to alter my comfortable mood. I headed back up hill, powdery prize in hand.

Even with this mighty quest for cinnamon, the cookies were all baked and ready to head to the library long before the library was ready for us. Three cheers for waking with one's alarm.