A perfect day—or calm after a jolly night and morning

 

My new good friend, Pierre.
I was always a sucker for a sweet gentleman.

This morning daughter-in-law Lisa asked me what my plans were for the day, and I said, “Nothing. I don’t have a plan.” It was delightful to wake up, know fun visiting waited for me, and not a single deadline, not even one of my self-imposed ones. Yes, tomorrow is the neighborhood newsletter deadline, and I could have been proofing what articles I have, but I didn’t. I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

By eight o’clock this morning, Sophie and Pierre were chasing each other around the back yard, an activity that they pursued indoors and out all morning, usually under Gary’s watchful eye. Poor Gary spent his morning saying things like, “Pierre, get off the dining table.” Pierre is definitely a goofy teenager.

About ten Colin, Lisa, and Kegan arrived on their way home from their annual Colorado skiing trip. Jordan and Christian served fruit salad left from last night, cookies, sausage-and-cheese sandwiches in biscuits. I contributed some cranberry/orange scones I had in the freezer. We sat in the living room, munched, ate, and visited.

Just about when the Tomball Alters geared up to get on the road, Colin remembered he wanted to work on my computer, so that kept them here another thirty or forty-five minutes. But I think he fixed the WiFi connection. Of course, now my printer is offline, and efforts to reconnect have so far been unsuccessful. I am thankful for progress, and that recipe for pasta with anchovies, garlic, and tomato paste can wait—but doesn’t it sound good?

The Tomball Alters finally got off, and Jordan, Gary, and I sat on my patio in the lovely sunshine, with the dogs, now exhausted, sleeping at our feet. Jordan and Gary were drinking champagne—I was not!

About one I said goodbye to Gary, who would be heading back to Dallas, came in and did a bit of work at my desk, and then had a good nap. Sophie was so tired she did not wake me up for once.

This evening, after all the hilarity of twenty-four hours, it’s almost eerily quiet around here. Christian has gone to someone’s house to watch basketball, Jordan is asleep, and I don’t know what Jacob is doing though I saw him come home with his golf clubs. I lingered over emails and Facebook, started reading a new book, and fixed my supper such as it was.

What do you eat after a big party? Leftovers, of course. For a late lunch I had salmon spread on crackers and a half of a green deviled egg that Jean brought last night. For supper, I repeated my lunch menu as an appetizer and then made a half a corned beef and Swiss sandwich on rye and sided it with some leftover cabbage from the St. Patrick’s Day dinner. We have an abundance of leftovers, and in my book that’s good. I love gnashing on party food the next day. When I used to give huge Tree Trimming parties at Christmas, I ate caviar and cream cheese, sausage balls, cheeseball, and chocolate cake for days afterward.

I am, I fear, being a baby about my upcoming root canal—Tuesday. Buffered by an eye doctor check-up on Monday—new doctor, new experience but just a check-up. No problems. I have decided not to try to be an author until after all the dental work. I am aware that the thought of the tooth procedure hangs over my head, though I am grateful to my family physician for prescribing a bit of valium for me to take to ease through it. I’ve never taken valium in my life, never intend to again, but I know my own tolerance for anxiety is not great.

So tonight, I’m going to write a book review, read, go to sleep as early as I can get Soph to come inside. It’s really nice to be lazy.

I saw a devastating picture on the internet today. A young boy, couldn’t have been more than five or six, walking alone, bundled up, his face red from cold and crying. In one hand, he had a toy; in the other, a bag of sweets. His parents had sent him, alone, to cross the border from Ukraine into Poland. The picture broke my heart and will not leave my mind. Damn Putin! As I count my blessings—the life situation that allows me to be lazy—I pray for the people of Ukraine. I hope you will too.