I staggered out of bed at 7:30. My back hurt.
The cat mewed welcome and rolled over to show his belly when I got to the family room. The daughter waved madly from the couch, and the spouse grumped, "Don't even turn on your computer."
I got coffee and watched Churchill stagger up some stairs. God knows what the spouse was watching. Milton walked back and forth across my lap, purring and complaining.
Last night I promised the daughter pancakes or waffles or scones for breakfast, and when I'd finished my cup of coffee, I assembled ingredients and began to fry bacon. I think it was the smell of the bacon that dragged the son out of bed.
As the bacon finished, I carefully ladled batter into the skillet, precisely dropping chocolate chips onto the pancakes as they began to bubble. I called the daughter to breakfast first, and then the son.
"Chocolate chip pancakes!" she crowed. A treat beyond her wildest dreams.
"How do you do that?" the son asked in wonder. "Four chocolate chips in each pancake and in the exact same spot in each pancake!"
"I am an expert," I told him blithely.
The spouse does not care for chocolate chips, so he got his pancakes last.
I had an egg.
The spouse and the son went out to mow the lawn, and I put the second load of laundry in the washing machine. The fog burned off, the sky rapidly turning a bright cerulean blue. I washed the breakfast dishes, not normally my job, but I wanted them out of the way.
I threw on some old clothes and headed out to inspect what the boys were up to. The son triumphantly waved the morning glory vine he'd ripped off a tree. I trimmed a rose bush and then grabbed a rake and started in on pine straw. There is an abundance this time of year as the tree sheds its old needles and they are long and stabby. I hate them, but I love the tree. It's a compromise.
The breeze blew softly around us. The word "zephyr" came to mind. Excepting the occasional screech of a crow, the world was quiet and peaceful, though my heart started to pound when a plane flew overhead, it's engines suddenly downshifting as it headed in toward JWA. I try not to think about it; I can't ever forget.
The boy went to shower while the spouse and I continued to companionably fill bins with weeds and pine straw. After about an hour, my back indicated it had had more than enough. But the yard looked better, and I stood for a moment to admire my labor and the beauty of the morning. The spouse went out to pick up lunch for the local Italian restaurant, and after we'd eaten, I cut his hair as I'd promised. I've been cutting his hair for 18 years. I don't know anything about cutting hair, but he likes the way I cut it, and he doesn't have to mess with a shop, and it makes him happy.
The Angels lost to New York, though they took the three-game series. Santana...
The Flying Rodents start their fall season today, and the spouse gathered his gear in preparation for bad beer and likely worse softball. But it makes him happy.
I gathered another round of ingredients. If I'm going to feed my kids junk food for their lunches I prefer it be junk food that I make, and so I made chocolate chip bar cookies for the coming week. I don't always; sometimes I buy cookies, but the breeze was gentle and the day was cool and the signs of autumn are unmistakable, which put me in the mood to bake.
And it's kind of an act of love. Standing for that time is not easy at this juncture. But worth it.
It's a beautiful day.
Go listen to some good music: "Beautiful Day" from the album All That You Can't Leave Behind by U2.