I just fell for a sale on a hitherto unavailable product in Loblaws. Chinese Fondue in the freezer section seemed to be a bargain. I knew about Chinese fondue from a long time ago (my other life) and I grabbed it. It was called Mongolian hot pot, or simply hot pot, and I used to serve it for a casual dinner. At the time it seemed easy. Later, as a traveller, I had it in Xian (or maybe Shanghai?) at a restaurant that had hot tables, that is, tables each with a built-in pot already bubbling with broth. It's like a beef fondue or a cheese fondue, as you probably know: you cook the food (meat, chicken, seafood, bread) in the hot liquid, be it oil, for the meats, melted cheese for the bread, or chicken broth for the Chinese ingredients. Then you eat them with various sauces, except the cheese fondue; the cheese mixture, of course, is the sauce. And with the Chinese version you drink the broth as a second course; it tastes fantastic after cooking all that meat, or chicken or seafood. Well, you know all that. So do I. So did I.

But I was careless, not noticing what was in the package I picked up. I just looked at it. just now; all it is, is meat, and chicken, accompanied by those dreadful instructions "cook until done." Oh dear. I need broth, and veggies, and sauces, and I have invited a friend to come for dinner tomorrow night. It's a good thing I know what I'm doing, sort of. The bad news is that I don't have much time.

Was it Horace who said that that the test of a good general was how he behaved under fire? I quoted that in my first cookbook, because I thought it was a good analogy for a resourceful cook: how she behaves under fire. So tomorrow me and my hot pot will be under fire. Fortunately, I still have my fondue pot, and forks.

You think this year has gone quickly so far - NOT - especially the coldest days of this exceptionally cold winter; they went very slowly.

I have almost put in the 79 days required before I can board that long-awaited (repaired) ship. I must admit that as embarkation hoves into view I do have a lot to do and wonder if I have time! But that's just about packing and remembering stuff. I just bought new underwear and I need more night cream. It's like getting married or going away to college (I stayed at home), or something. You have to think ahead. I am tired of thinking ahead. I am about to live each day in the moment, to the fullest. Carpe diem or even better, carpe horam.

It's funny how we all need deadlines. Without them, each day melds into the next and the fiddlies, the some-day-I'll-do-that chores remain undone. Now is the time, I think, to throw out tired, stale spices, stretch-waisted underwear, moth-eaten sweaters (we had an infestation a year ago - or longer?) If I told you all the things i've neglected you would be shocked. Or maybe not. How organized are you? Oh dear, I just remembered the barometer.

Years ago, my husband won a barometer as a prize for curling. This was in Manitoba, where they took curling excellence, or even competence, very seriously. I knew about barometers: I used to see them in movies where an old guy would tap his barometer and mutter a forecast about the weather. When we moved to Stratford, the barometer went with us. It was a prize, after all. I never saw Bill tap it. It hung on the wall above the stairs going up, or down, as the case may be. Well, it was on the way down, I tripped slightly and veered into the wall, into the barometer, and knocked it down. A little piece of it chipped off and I saved the piece, intending to glue it back on some day, maybe the same day I would learn how to read a barometer.

That day, of course, never came. After Bill died I had the biggest garage sale in the world and moved into Toronto, without the barometer or the chipped piece. Now you know what a sludge I am. It's things like that that keep me humble. When I think I'm doing pretty well, tending to my tasks, following up on deadlines and the like, I remember the barometer. It's not just for forecasting the weather; it also "reflects changes in circumstances or opinions" (from the online Dictionary). Now that's kind of comforting. When you put it that way, I think maybe I have a built-in barometer.