I am all out of anything deeply thoughtful to say, but how about just sitting down with me and having a cup of tea and a chat--about this and that.
Right now my speckled cranberry mug of tea is just about drained and I don't have the energy to make another, but I will savour the last few drops with you and just share some things that I have enjoyed of late.
Molson is on the couch with me, his left shoulder leaning lightly against my right thigh. He obligingly took his head off the keyboard in response to my gentle remonstrance a minute or so ago.
Do you remember a few weeks ago that I said he reminded me of an out of season reindeer? That was because of his spare green leash, kept in a drawer in our hallway, for moments when we could steal away together. It didn't really go with his red therapy dog collar and badge, but it served it's purpose.
Well, on the Saturday of my birthday weekend at the beginning of June, I was sitting in the morning sunshine in our large back room, enjoying a leisurely coffee, when Brenda walked in and said, "Molson has a birthday present for you." Imagine my delight when he walked in slowly, carefully carrying a bright red leash in his mouth! It was the perfect gift and I could hardly wait to try it out.
Unfortunately at that time, my life was severely out of wack and it was only last weekend that I finally had the pleasure of a couple of shorter than usual walks with my favourite furry friend. He really is the perfect dog. He goes with the flow and adapts to the pace--whatever it is; and we seem to adore each other in equal measure.
And then there was the sunrise that I caught yesterday morning. I came downstairs and found the world floodlit from the east in rose gold. What a wonderful start to a day that was, as if God went all out to make it extra special.
I am on vacation at home this week and although my energy wanes quickly at the moment, every day there is a little more of it. I use it while it's there and slowly, slowly, I am organizing one cupboard at a time, finding lost favourite clothes and tossing things that are just taking up space without paying rent. With every tidied closet shelf, my soul breathes a sigh of pleasure. Everytime I open the fridge door and see the neat functionality of the shelves, I smile.
It was only eight days ago that my team dropped in to see me and some of them hadn't had lunch when they arrived. Oh, I wish you could have seen the pathetic sight that I was and how we all got by that afternoon. Normally I am a mother hen and have no difficulty rustling up something delicious in no time. But I was wilted and suffering from the nasty side effects of painkillers and the local pizza place where we could have ordered from, was closed. My fridge was a horrible mess. I discovered afterwards that I did actually have a loaf of bread waaaay in the back of it, but it was covered up by other stuff that had been randomly stuffed in, one thing on top of the other and strangely, none of it seemed edible. I managed to find two cans of Italian Wedding soup in the cupboard and Susan set about heating that up and cutting up a block of cheese that she found. She also found some crackers. Frank, Greg, Lesley-Ann, Susan, Terry and me shared our rations of the soup in mugs, although I didn't much feel like eating mine. I was so happy to see each of their dear faces though. What a difference a week makes!
Yesterday Alex, a dear friend, and her daughter Anna, brought a portable feast up from the city for lunch. Brenda and my daughter-in-law Susan joined us, and all six of our grandchildren. We told the children that it was a hen party and Tiffany-Amber said that there were also seven chicks.
We feasted on potato salad (delicously heavy on the chives,) and cold cuts and all sorts of yummy vegetables--even avocado pear! We had corn chips, salsa and a delicous chocolate cake made by Susan, with a chocolate sauce made by a granddaughter (out of a slab of melted bakers chocolate mixed with whipping cream.) The floor was awash in a full jug of pink cherry lemonade, and the flowers were knocked over at least twice. It was divinely chaotic, Brenda was tense with the conviction that someone was about to get hurt, while Susan calmly stuck to her equally strong conviction that they would all survive without adult intervention (in spite of the wails from far recesses of the house.) Alex and I sat back, content in the fact that it was not our children shrieking.
We laughed and chatted the afternoon away. At the end I was exhausted, but replete with good food and company.
So, dear readers, thank you for visiting. A pair of brown eyes is staring me down. Adieu!