A small fuss of kitchen prep is behind me, chicken roasting in the oven, a pan of biodynamic sunshiney root veg all mushed up with my hands in a pan with Spanish olive oil (extra virgin, of course), minced garlic, and just a seductive - not heartstopping - suggestion of sea, oh the sea, by the beautiful sea, salt. Sultry jazz on the stereo, I'm in a swoon. Russet potatoes in oven too, and dish of butter hauled out of fridge.
I won't call you stranger, my dream lover, and I hope your freight train isn't late.
The pecan pie part though - I hope you're bringing that. Sweet Melissa's has a good one, I'm sure. Cream? We'll wing that.
P.S. Door unlocked; cranberry sauce chilling; I'll promenade wherever and in whatever you like, as you well know.