Mothers' Day

I awoke this morning (or more accurately, re-awoke, having gone back to bed after meeting Sarabelle's ride to work at 5:25 AM), after being allowed to remain in bed with the covers snugly over my head -- my return to the womb or auto-asphixiation, your guess -- to the smell, not of fried eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee, but of bleach and some other powerfully noxious glop. Elle, the only one home as Grice was at a birthday party sleepover, took it upon herself to clean the bathroom for me for Mothers' Day. I'll take that over breakfast in bed any time.

After Grice came home, they presented me with a treasure trove of gifts, gifts that the girls got together on their own and did not involve paste or macaroni noodles. All were handmade from local artisans, vendors at our local cotters market. Australian lavender and Australian bush mint soaps, two beautiful Tarzali silkwood bowls, one jar of coconut lip balm, a bouquet of cut orchids, and a gorgeous blue and white blown glass bud vase. I was truly surprised. They are now busily preparing what will be our evening meal, what looks to be peanut butter cookies and tuna fish.

Maybe the biggest surprise of all is that I am actually able to relate these facts to you. Yesterday morning someone, I won't say who, but it wasn't me, tripped on the cable to the printer and jerked my laptop off the table and onto the floor. I didn't yell and scream as I would have expected, instead I clapped my hands to my face, burst into sobs and collapsed on the couch. It is operable, sort of, limping along at approximately 1/6000th of its normal speed, though I am probably doing irreparable damage by continuing to use it. The rest of the day will be spent trying to recover and burn the most important contents to a DVD before it totally crashes. It'll have to be sent in to see if it can be repaired, so expect delays in posting and corresponding. At this rate, I figure I should be up and running somewhere around January 3, 2019.


Diligence is the mother of good fortune.

-- Miguel de Cervantes