I don’t know what this says about me? But watching the Bear’s brilliant season 2 Christmas Dinner episode in which Jamie Lee Curtis plays a Mom frantically making a seven fishes feast for her family, I thought to myself, I can’t WAIT to do that some day, but with less alcoholism and mental illness. Maybe it’s also because I’m currently dieting and intermittent fasting but I can see and taste the whole day and the meal at the end of it. I’ll be in my 50s or 60s, the kids will be grown or grown-ish and can for the most part take care of themselves. It will be Christmas. I’ll have my dream kitchen with lots of cupboards and ovens and counter space. My whole family will be assembled, and there will be hard and soft cheeses and pickles and olive oil crackers and cookies that I made and froze weeks ago for everyone to snack on, while they wait. I’ll spend the day in the kitchen, baking and cooking, and my people will come and visit me, I’ll take little breaks to hear about their lives and replenish the crackers and pee. I’ll have a bottle of slightly cold oregon pinot noir, just for me. Recipes yanked out of magazines, I’ve been planning this all year. There will be biscuits and multiple sides dishes, some heavy and some light, and I’ll have timed it all out so as to not overwhelm myself. I’ll take small moments to be grateful while the oil heats up in the pan. The dinner will be long and ridiculous and lots of laughing together, I’ll be so tired after, but will have room for a piece of both the cake and the pie that I made last weekend, freezing accordingly. We’ll sit with dessert and laugh at what we were laughing at over dinner. No one wants to go bed but me. I’ll fall asleep immediately, sleep long and deep while my family does all of the dishes, wipes down the counters because they know that matters to me. I’ll wake up early for coffee, alone. My family trickles into the kitchen, one by one. That was a great dinner. I’m too tired to get up for a hug, so they bring one down to me. Someone else starts breakfast.