So I called my daughter late the other evening to check on something. This was Sunday night—when I’m always caught between hanging on to the weekend as long as I can, while also trying to get myself ready for the rush of Monday. And she said, “I’m cooking.” And I said, “What?” And she said, “Italian Chicken Chili and Pumpkin Black Bean Turkey Chili. It seemed efficient to make these two recipes together.”

But she wasn’t finished with her cooking rundown. “And I was thinking about how good some spicy muffins would be with these chilies, so I’m baking Jalapena Corn Muffins, too.”

I sat down. I was not in a revving-up mood. I must have sounded that way because she said, “Don’t you want to go into the week with at least four meals already made? Two each from each.”

Yeah, but not starting at 9:00 Sunday night.

Funny how you can hardly change a body clock. This young woman and her dad start projects as night-time comes.

Not me. Last week while we were on vacation in a hotel room overlooking the ocean, I got up early each morning while it was still dark. My feast was to see the sun rise over the waves. It was unspeakably beautiful. It’s true, I didn’t see anyone else, but I gotta admit, that was part of the treat.
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