It’s nice to be home. There’s lots to be done tomorrow, but right now I can sit in a comfy chair and listen to the March rains outside, dreaming of summer’s sunshine and frolicking on the, hey, wait a minute!
May! It’s not March! It’s May! But this happens every year. At some point in April or May the weather suckers you into thinking that it’s spring heading into summer, and then within a day or few you find yourself shivering and slogging through weeks of cold and wet. We don’t need a groundhog out here to predict winter’s duration: we need an animal to predict when the sun will arrive. Except, of course, that we don’t really need to guess. It ALWAYS seems to rain until July. We got married on July 1st, and were still somewhat worried we’d get rained out. In actual fact, though, we had a beautiful day and I wound up with a slight sunburn after standing outside for wedding pictures for a couple of hours. I was wearing a necklace given to me by my mother-in-law, and the skin underneath the pendent was the only patch lacking a pink hue. I found that fairly amusing, actually.
Hazel made me a Mothers’ Day present yesterday when she was at the girls’ Coop preschool. She was really excited about it, and kept asking me if we could just do Mothers’ Day early. But then she’d change her mind and want me to be surprised. She got very upset at the idea that I’d see the present, which she told me was a plant, ahead of time. I suggested that she put it on a little table in the living room, and prop up a tall book in front of it so I couldn’t see it. Then she worried I’d peek. I promised not to peek. I forgot that of course I can see that table through the window from the porch. After the first inadvertent glimpse I have sedulously avoided looking in that direction, and have instead stared straight ahead at the front door as I’m coming home. I asked Ted if he and Hazel could make a fun breakfast Sunday morning. While they’re doing that I can sleep in and relax upstairs. It will be lovely.
My orange tabby cat Chester’s nickname was “Chester Pester” and for good reason. He’d reluctantly get down from the counter, but only when the squirt bottle was actually in your hand and aimed directly at him. He chewed on my shoes. He destroyed things. He was fearless. Nonetheless, Pepper is outdoing him for sheer peskiness. He jumps up on the counter right next to you while you’re standing right there. He doesn’t even hurry to get down. Emily has learned how to do the “tsss!” sound which is intended to modify feline behavior (hahahahahahahhahahaha), because she’s been hearing it with some frequency. We have discovered that we have to put dirty knives directly into the sink and not leave them on the counters, because he’ll knock them down into the reach of the twins. That is one naughty cat. Good thing he’s so cute!
Emily has discovered that she loves to be swung. She comes over, reaches up her arms and says, “Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?” I pick her up under her arm pits, she pulls her legs up, and I swing her back and forth. She grins and giggles. My back protests, and I put her down. Then she makes the sign and says, “More? More? More?” at the same time. Repeat, until I really can’t do it any more. My baby girls are getting so big. But they still fit cozily into my lap for books, and Ted still carries them around. I will be sad when he can’t do that any more. It really is one of the most endearing and heart-warming sights ever.