Posts Tagged ‘Driftwood’

4:34: Awoke at normal-ish time, but remembered it was Saturday; realized I had at least one more hour to sleep.

6:32 – Whoops! Overslept!

7:18 – 3 minutes late leaving if I was going to break the speed limits; 8 minutes late if I was to obey the limits, to take #3 to pre-game practice.

7:35 – Called #1 to make sure he actually got OUT of bed when told to get up, to remind him to wear khakis/polo to band ensemble audition two towns north.

8:00 – Took these pictures and realized I no longer had time to take a morning run along the water, but would have to go back to the ball park, park car and make my route consist of running from ball park to waterfront and back to be at game on time.

Birds, boats and bay

Dewy roses

8:30 – Game started, I arrive looking like hell, all sweaty and scary hair thanks to humidity which is not clearing out on the same schedule the weathermen predicted. Shoulda worn hat, but, oh well.

9:00 – Discover via friendly bleachers-chit-chat I am conversing with a publisher; immediately neglect to notice when my kid is up to bat and take copious mental notes of everything she is telling me about how to get my dusty manuscripts published.

9:14 – Still yakking in bleachers. Super-Duh: By default from someone else’s mom calling out my kid’s name, I realize my kid is again up to bat and join in on cheering him on.

9:25 – Game interference caused by seagull dive-bombing pitcher on mound. Seagull mistook baseball for food.

9:40 – Thanking the Lord I live here, where even trash is beautiful:

10:00 – Congratulating the team for finishing the season 13-1, mentally preparing for tournament season.

10:09 – Texting family closest to ice cream sale to make sure to pick up half-gallon of Chocolate Trinity for near-future consumption.

10:30 – Home for dishes, laundry, accounting and brunch (al fresco) with goodies like cheese grits and Cajun sausage. More laundry. More dishes. Realizing I could permanently station myself at either post and remain gainfully occupied.

11:15 – Put the baby down for nap and catch up on online stuff.

12:00 – Overcome by sleep – take nap, too.

1:38 – Report from unsolicited onlooker that light snore was in progress. Register official embarrassment and return to slumber.

2:55 – Startle from scary dream about eccentric neighbor with unruly chickens.

3:08 – Toddler toddles in chirping about going to beach. Other children noted in background to be emptying beach towels, toys and other nautical-themed paraphernalia out of bathroom and hall closets. I am cheerfully railroaded into compliance.

3:10 – Grog-fall out of bed and mechanically put on swimsuit and flip-flops.

3:30 – Finagle 10-inch hanging pot out of nursery down the road on way to beach, as storm 2 days ago caused one pot to fall, crack, and flowers quickly dying…nursery forked over spare pot that was otherwise doing nothing but taking up space out back. Front porch soon to be restored to symmetricality.

3:40 – At beach initially planned to visit; set up beach chair, get crucial belongings positioned on nearby log (phone, drink). Ahhhhhh…

3:41 – 2 out of 4 kids chime, “Hey, look! Maggots all over the place!” Aaagghhh!

3:42 – 4-foot fish noted to be rotting nearby. Abrupt change of plans.

3:50 – 1/2 mile down the road claiming a small, private stretch of beach shared only by pelicans overhead:

A dozen pelicans

Sunblinded Flight

5:00 – Visitors show up with 2-year-old grandchild. Get to talking and inform them of stuff they never knew about their second-home’s environs, such as shipwreck location, manatees upriver at spot where Yankees came ashore to sneak up to last Civil War battle after treaty already signed at Appomattox, and best places to find thus-n-such.

5:23 – Mercy granted for their allegiance to rival college football team.

5:52 – Refrain from inquiry regarding contents of their blue Solo cups and vice versa in our water bottles, as conversation grows more friendly and animated. Simultaneously, this driftwood starts looking more and more like a beached dolphin or shark:

What do you see?

6:30 – Sandy children strapped in car, brought home and deposited directly into various and sundry hose-down areas.

7:15 – Munching pizza on front porch, little bunny hops across street and is shortly thereafter eating baby carrot out of my hand, much to children’s delight.

7:20 – Children locate cage and entrap little bunny. #4 decides he now likes to eat carrots, too (whatever works!).

7:51 – Kids in bed, us on front porch swing, enjoying fireflies and kitty’s reaction to caged bunny.

8:00 – Long awaited shower.

8:49 – Chocolate Trinity, small serving due to recent discovery that regular servings may be responsible for restless sleep due to triple chocolate/caffeine effect. Consider it for breakfast, instead.

9:40 – Tune in for weather, to hear what we already know: perfect, perfect, perfect.

10:something – Contented collapse.

Thanks, God, for granting us the ability to willfully ignore the underlying stressors of life, if only for one Saturday. Thank You for the fun days to counterbalance the days of hardships – past/present/future – and for giving us sweet memories to soothe in times of distress. Without suffering, there would be little perspective. Without joy, there would be little hope. Thank You for both joy and suffering. Thank You for One Saturday.

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