Every day is a story in itself. Even seemingly dull days open up pages of new stuff. Today is completely different from all other days that came before. Even if some things do repeat themselves.
But breakfast is definitely not a repeat of the same old. Primrose and I eat alone, in the house, because the weather today is not right for porch meals. Nor is it really easy for a kid to munch away at cereal at the wee table there. So, indoors.
With these two roses from the garden (one belongs to the category of totally edible):
Now, the next thing to do is to vote. Wisconsin's gubernatorial primaries are today. But who should I pick? The most electable person? How do you decide that? I can't tell who will sway voters and in which direction. So the person with the best platform? With the most experience? I've never been an undecided voter. Today I am an undecided voter. So much so that I almost stay home. Still, I have never skipped voting before and 73 seems too old to go in that direction. So, voting is on the agenda.
As is doggie day care, and grocery shopping, and farmette flowers run, and then finally home again for the girl and me. We sort of get through all that but with hiccups.
Millie drop off? Great. The girl runs in! Grocery shopping? Fabulous. I have a helper.
But then I get a text that the cousins have arrived (and we are not there) so everything else is tossed aside and we rush home.
They play, eat lunch...
And then things get slightly nutty. First, I find out that Snowdrop is actually supposed to be at her Shakespeare rehearsal. Sparrow begs to stay home with Primrose while I drop her there. It's only a few minute drive and they are creating houses on her on her tablet. I know that Sparrow has stayed home for brief moments while a parent ran a quick one, but I ask Primrose -- have your parents ever left you home alone? She answers truthfully -- no... but they talked about how they're going to! Well yeah, I imagine by her age 20, they'll probably stop with the babysitters. Still, it is a short roundtrip, and I just read the article in the NYTimes about kid independence in this country, and I do believe these kids are good at just sitting on the couch and doing their game, so I drill on what should happen if 1. one of them tripped and fell or got hurt (I tell them which neighbor to go to) 2. what would happen if I didn't come home within a certain amount of time (they're on her tablet, she can reach her mom who can reach his parents), 3. someone knocked on the door (obviously do nothing; maybe hide in the garage!). So, with all bases covered I run Snowdrop over to her play.
This is when I start getting messages from people I know -- what's going on? Strange letters have appeared, apparently from me. Oh no! I've been hacked? I pull over, shut down messaging on my phone and consider if I should change my pass code then and there. I best do that from home. I hurry. And run upstairs to the two happy kids. Did any of you use my computer downstairs? From Sparrow, with big eyes that are only slightly twitching with a suggestion of a smile. Yes, we're really sorry...
I should have added a 4th instruction: 4. do not touch my computer! Maybe I should have also added 5. and do not move from your sitting position, and most of all, do not do anything that you think might trigger a reaction from me!
(the co-conspirators)
We pick up Snowdrop toward evening, then we all go to get Millie because these kids just adore my dog so much!
(the greeting committee)
The two local kids go home. Primrose, Millie and I drive back to Steffi's House where Ed joins us for a supper of beans and tomatoes and cheese.
And he babysits both Primrose and Millie while I moped over to vote. By evening I had made up my mind and I cast my ballot minutes before the polling station closed.
Ordinary enough for you? Perhaps on the retell it sounds routine. But for me, for Primrose, for Millie as well, it was all quite out of the ordinary. With wonderful high points, but reeling still from the recent developments with my sick friend, and of course, moments of plain calm. Without that calm, I would be a mess. And when the grandma at Grandma Camp is a mess, well, then the tent collapses.
with so much love...
