A wonderful day—but where was my schedule?

Must be a sign of aging, but I find that even in retirement I live by a schedule—up by 7:30, lunch by noon, nap around two when my head starts falling into my keyboard, dinner around six, and to bed at ten. And I don’t adapt gracefully to changes. Lunch invitations for 12:30 leave me wondering what I can snack on, and I have a hard time on occasion adapting to the late dinner schedule of Jordan’s family.

That said, my schedule went all to pot today, and I loved it. Jamie came from Frisco bringing Mel and his two daughters, Maddie (about to go to college) and Eden—those beautiful girls are above I’m prejudiced but I think they’re lovely, and they are as sweet as they are lovely. Maddie completed training last year to be a Certified Nurses’ Assistant, and she was a big help to me and my walker today.

They got here just before 12:30 and it was 1:00 before we were settled on the porch at Bravo. We ordered drinks and appetizers; Mel was told they were out of Prosecco, and I just flat never got my glass of wine. Finally, after a word to the bartender, we both got our drinks but no food. At 1:50 Jamie gently mentioned our plight, and the manager for the day was on it. I think we had a very new waiter—but I worried about him losing a job, etc. Anyway after that things happened quickly, and we had appetizers and meal in rapid order, then lingered over dessert—tiramisu. Mel joked about spending all afternoon at lunch, and we almost did but I loved the company and the conversation. Great way to spend an afternoon.

After they left for Frisco, about 3:30, my day was off. Napped at 4:15, wasn’t hungry but finally had a sandwich at 7:00—may be ready to go back to bed early.

Burtons are home from skiing today, so my week of independence is over. I find I already have a Jordan list, but I really am working on independence. That aside, I’m glad to have them back—missed them.

Our front yard now sports a swarm of Lily B. signs The Spring Auction for Jacob’s school (right across the street—Lily B. Clayton) is coming up. As publicity, they developed all these bee signs (the bee is the school’s mascot) and a sign that says “You’ve been swarmed.” Glad to be part of it.

Lovely compliment on my Facebook page, one that thrills my heart. A friend who knows my devotion to my Scottish ancestry, wrote “Five thousand years of Scottish breeding shows.” Thanks, Ellen.

The wisdom of a child

I'm pretty much in a rut in my daily routine. If I have errands, appointments, etc. I do them in the morning--which really cuts into my most productive writing time. I either lunch with friends or fix myself something at home, work for a while, and nap before going to get Jacob. My naps are an essential part of my day, a great bonus of retirement. Then the time between picking up Jacob and supper is pretty much dead time. After dinner I work again.
Last night Jacob came to me and in his most adult tone said, "Juju, I don't have to go to Clayton YES tomorrow" (that's his summer day camp). Then, with a bit of his mother's frugality, he added, "We've already paid for lunch but I could go just before lunch." (Turns out it was BBQ which he wouldn't have wanted to miss.) I agreed, thinking I'd let him sleep in, but then I realized there was a must-do grocery trip scheduled for morning. When I told him that, he said, "Go after you drop me off." I explained I had a lunch date, followed by a nap, so he said, "Go after you pick me up." He's used to after-work grocery runs with his mom.
That struck me. Where was it written in stone that I had to do all my errands before lunch? As it was, I had a mostly productive morning at home--he kept getting in a rush to go to day camp, then getting distracted by TV, and I never knew when I was taking him. But I did get a lot done, took him about eleven, came home to do a couple of things, and went to lunch with a former student.
When I picked him up at 4:30, Jacob didn't think his grocery store idea was so cool after all. "You know me and grocery stores," he said. But I didn't have a long list and we were home before six.
Now, at nearly nine-thirty, he's eating his second dinner of mac and cheese, with broccoli, overcooked the way he likes it. In between dinners he had chocolate chip ice cream. I must be an okay grandmother.
But it's great to have a child make you rethink the way you order your days--and to be open to that child's suggestions.