Drifting

   

Claire is really feeling March, I guess. 

Feeling adrift today. Not much to do. It's stormy outside so yard work is out. Housework is done, except that I need to organize a couple of cabinets. I'm not feeling that. Was on school duty with the girls this morning, so I tried to go to bed early, but slept lightly and woke up tired. The girls arrived a bit late, about six twenty. This didn't give me much time to make the pancakes they requested, but I gave it a go, anyway. Things were hampered by the fact that I hadn't put away last night's washed dishes. I had just stacked them on the sink and there were one or two things in the sink. My fast and hard rule for myself is that I never start cooking before the kitchen is cleaned up. So I decided to empty the dishwasher just as the girls were coming in the door. Things were chaotic. Grill was on and hot but empty. Dishwasher hanging open, water running, dog barking. I got a bit overwhelmed with it, not in an emotional way, just in a hurried way. I looked at the clock and realized we only had ten minutes to leave and I hadn't even mixed the pancakes yet (but at least the kitchen was clean)! Claire came in the kitchen and saw my frenzy. She walked straight up to me, encircled me with her arms and squeezed very tight. I see you are having a hard day she said. Did I mention that I have the sweetest granddaughters in the world? How is that for blood pressure reduction? So I got the cakes on the griddle (life ain't nothin' but a funny funny riddddle) and the plates on the table, everything buttered, syruped, cool whipped, and while they were eating did a disappearing job on what remained of the clean up from breakfast. We got the girls out the door, and nobody argued about whose turn it was to sit behind grandma. (why do they want to sit behind me? I have told them many times that I like to see them, but still they insist). On the way to school Arya told us a lovely story, of which I don't remember a single word. We had a rousing game of Baby Grandma, and also Baby Grandpa! Drink your bottle, Baby Grandpa! Followed by the most disgusting combination of things that definitely do not go in milk, that you can imagine. Garlic milk, salad milk with green olives, green bean milk, etc. 

The girls got out, we drove around for a bit and then came home for coffee and quiet time. Today I decided quiet time would be in my recliner rather than in the office. My knees have been absolutely killing me the last few days. 

Predictably I fell asleep in the chair. I woke up later and spent a ridiculous amount of time doomsday scrolling on my phone, bored the whole time, and wondering why I didn't have the umph to get up and do something else. Doomsday scrolling is a new term for me. I hate it, yet I find myself spending way too much time engaged in the social media that is probably contributing to my high cholesterol. 

I don't have to pick up the girls from school this week, at least not that I know of. It's just morning duty for us, as their dad is out of town. 

I did have to have a talk with Arya yesterday. A nice, not lecturing kind of talk. She got into the car and told me that she had been on the playground doing something called the "Bootie Scooty". I only knew what the "Bootie Scooty" was because I had been doomsday scrolling (See, HA, sometimes it CAN come in handy)!  a few days before and had come across an article about an irate mother who had been toy shopping for her kid and had come across a "Booty Scooty" Robin toy, as in Batman and Robin. It is literally a twerking Robin. A twerking. freaking. Robin. What on God's green earth is this world coming to. So when she told me she had been doing the "Booty Scooty" on the playground, we had to have a little talk about what is and what is not appropriate for school. 

Seriously, my nine year old granddaughter, was twerking at school. I mean you gotta laugh. It was all done in complete innocence, but the talk still has to happen. 

The house next door to Katie and Jeff is for sale. The Mr. and I have been talking about it. Not seriously enough to schedule a tour or anything, but just supposing that we could buy it, (280K). It would be so seriously fun to live next door to the kids. Imagine all the stories I would have to tell about time spent with the girls. And no stairs would be nice. But, I think we will probably just be content to be a mile away instead of fifty feet. Still it makes you wonder...what would that be like? 

Maybe it isn't the thought of a new place that intimidates me, maybe it's the thought of leaving this place that gives me such pause. 23 years here, and a lot of memories. A lot of water under the bridge. We have poured our souls out into this house and part of me is afraid of what happens to my house when I'm gone. I couldn't bear to see it not properly cared for. I think it would kill me. That would be a cholesterol riser, for sure. 

But I digress. 

I had better find myself a project so I can quit drifting around being bored with nothing to do. Or rather, nothing I want to do. 

Maybe I will go to the gym. 

Naah. 

I knew you would want to see this.