Friday

I don't walk on Fridays, I run. Inevitably, my posts are shorter, my stories less thought out, my photos less studied.

Oh, there's the beautiful opening to the day. Well, beautiful for me...






... I suppose for Isie boy as well (he is allowed only on the porch and only if accompanied by an adult).





But after that, I'm on the run. This is by choice and so I am not complaining. It is wonderful to make your lists smaller and your future days, therefore, more carefree.

One errand that I have for today is picking up my replacement lenses for my glasses. The glasses are still under warranty and so it is a blissfully cost free transaction, but I note as I take off my glasses to have them refitted with new lenses, that I am quite useless without eye-wear. That's a recent thing. I could, up until a handful of years ago, see quite well in the distance. But now, I wouldn't trust myself to drive a car without glasses and I certainly can't read anything unless I'm looking through a thick corrective lens.

But I have never had a second pair of glasses! Too expensive (I need bifocals, which automatically triples the cost), too unnecessary. It would be like an insurance policy that you hate to get because you know you wont need it.

Until you do.

I travel so much -- how is it that I don't worry about losing/breaking/misplacing something that links me to the rest of the world?

And so I'm rethinking my game plan. And immediately comes the dilemma: should my second pair be the cheapest available, because after all, chances are I wont ever need it, or, so long as I'm getting it, mightn't I want to make a fashion statement? Imagine! A second funky pair that I could cart out for that special evening out (not that I have many special evenings out, but I have one today and so my mind strays in that direction)!

This is how capitalism thrives, of course. From bare bones, you quickly move to something more special, costing, of course, just a wee bit more. Machines churn, production rises, the stock market improves.


In the afternoon I am with Snowdrop.

You'll see more photos here (and fewer words) because from a grandma's perspective, she is just irresistibly clever and radiant and awesome (sorry if you've heard these same words from other grandmas).

Here, she finally, finally catches up with one of the household cats. And she is thrilled. And the cat is patient.






Another playful moment -- where she is saying "okay grandma, go ahead and take your picture, but don't you think I may be needing a haircut soon?"






We play with musical instruments. The little Mozartina is especially grand with the tambourine.






And then, in the evening, the three girls -- Snowdrop, her mom, me -- go out for a celebratory drink. A month of the new work schedule, the end of the week, the coming of Fall -- pick your reason for a celebration. We go downtown on the early side, just before the official start of happy hour, just in case the little one has a restless moment.

But Snowdrop is excited. She is convinced that the waitress is there to smile at her and she reciprocates.






Oh, Snowdrop!






Of course, the excitement of life eventually exhausts her. But in a good way.






I come home at dusk. There is dinner to fix, cheepers to hide -- the usual stuff. The good stuff. 

Fall is off to a grand beginning.