Tuesday

Such a day! Busy in good ways, odd ways, pretty ways, profound way, silly ways.

And to think -- the cats aren't even at the center of my orbit today. They must take a back seat. I'm in a tailspin of life's demands.

There is, however, always time for breakfast.





Then? The ridiculous and the sublime.

Examples of the ridiculous: after breakfast, I glance at my to do list for the week. Okay, here's an easy one: descale the coffee maker in preparation for a busy weekend of use. Last time the Chicago young family visited, the coffee machine was broken. We suffered through a weekend of bad coffee. Oh, people spoke polite untruths about it being fine. It was, in fact, wretched. I replaced the coffee maker immediately after.

Except I find today that the descaling program on this new-ish machine is broken. I take all the steps to troubleshoot. They yield nothing. I call the customer service. They have me run through the troubleshooting steps five, six, seven, eight more times. No go.

In essence, I spend the morning trying to get the machine to clean up its act. In the end, predictably, it doesn't. A new one will be delivered. Probably next week, after the young family leaves.


How about the profound? Well, Ed and I talk about where we're heading. It's not a discussion he initiates, but it's one I need, especially when we spin quickly through one week after the next. So here it is, in between curse words levied against my coffee machine.


And the odd? Here's one story: this week, my "sports doc" issued an order for an MRI. Long story, not too interesting, certainly not too threatening, but it needs a quick resolution because otherwise I may be inadvertently causing damage to some bone or other. Well, despite my doc's insistence that I do this now, this week -- no appointments are available this week.  Fine. I understand. I'll do it next month. My doc says no! This week. So I'm back with the MRI scheduler. Don't worry, she tells me. You just have to call first thing in the morning. We (this is the UW health care system) always reserve spots for the Badger team. If none are needed that day, you can have one of those. 

Well now, I didn't care about scheduling until I heard this. You mean that our football team gets priority over, say, a little kid who is in need of an MRI? I'm willing to hand over my slot to a little kid, or a parent whose bones need help while they juggle ten million things in their over-scheduled lives. Not so sure I believe in football players budging the line before all the rest of us.



In the afternoon, I pick up the kids. As always, the first few minutes are full of their needs: to be held, reassured, to be fed, to be read to, to be loved.












After a while, everyone settles down and finds a calm and happy place. Snowdrop wants to make a book. Sparrow is delighted to join her in that effort.






When the kids leave, I turn my attention to the farm animals. You have to walk carefully when the cats and cheepers dance around your feet in order to get you to their feeding stations.





It's become such a ritual. As ingrained as our morning breakfasts. Ed encourages the cheepers into the coop, I walk the cats back into the shed. Happy cats, happy chickens. It makes for happy campers all around.