They had a sweet event for the kiddos after school the other day:  popsicles on the playground.  Despite the fact that the heavens opened RIGHT as school let out and it poured did not seem to dampen any spirits — or the pleasure of enjoying a good popsicle.  (Gluten free; God bless them!)  We all huddled together under the Parish Hall awning since we could not go on the playground.  My water baby of course was out jumping up and down in puddles already forming from the deluge a small distance away.  Bright colored rivulets trickled down sticky little arms while a torrent of rain rushed through the church’s downspouts.  I was looking forward to playing with my little one on that playground.  She was going to show me what she did at recess everyday.  I confess I did not mind missing the sandbox.  The only type of sand I like involves sun, ocean breeze, and a drink with a little kick to it.  But I really was genuinely looking forward to being able to just play with her in that special space belonging for such a brief time to her and her classmates.  American author and philosopher Eric Hoffer said:

“It is the child in man that is the source of his uniqueness and creativeness, and the playground is the optimal milieu for the unfolding of his capacities and talents.”

Selfishly, perhaps I will have another chance to fight battles, fly horses, and dream with her there.  I sure hope so … before she leaves these sweet years of popsicles on the playground.

Welll we all survived the first week of getting back into a routine.  I got my little one to school on time, her uniforms were different each day, and I packed her usual vegetarian gluten free lunches with varying fruit, honey peanut butter sandwiches, and some type of cheese.  I brought snacks and got her to karate twice right after long days at school.  This is the first time she has not napped and I have allowed her to have apple juice before martial arts classes to make sure my karate kid girl was able to keep going.  When I got her after school she smiled her angelic smile up at me and then asked where her snacks were.  I explained that we were just going home and that she could relax; karate is Monday and Wednesday and swimming wasn’t until tomorrow.  “But way-os my SNACK?!” she asked with indignation and outrage.  “At home” I replied.  And then she proceeded to completely freak out and had a total meltdown.  “How COULD you?!” she cried.  “You knew I needed a snack because I’m SO hungry!!” she wailed.  Now red faced, “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU HURT ME LIKE THIS!  I have no SNACK!” she shrieked dramatically.  She proceeded to flail around as I was trying to buckle her into her car seat.  It reminded me of a cowboy trying to ride a bull just out of the gate.  On the short drive home my head began to pound mercilessly.  I gave up trying to talk to her because she wouldn’t stop screaming.  Finally she managed to wear herself out and I noticed her eyelids drooped.  Poor baby wasn’t intentionally trying to torment me; I think she was just exhausted after such a big week.  When we got home and I’d gotten her strawberries and cheese she meekly said, “I’m sorry I flipped out Mama.”  “That’s OK honey” I said as I began cracking open a bottle of wine at 4 p.m.  I sat my glass down, lit a candle for serenity, and snapped this picture.  I think if it could talk the Native American would be saying, “What was all the commotion?” while the peace loving wolves would be running in the other direction away from all the noise.  In typical cat fashion Le Chat Noir would be fed up while wise St. Francis seems to simply be pointing the way to my much needed wine.  One of my favorite actresses, just as lovely in person as she is on screen, Jane Seymour, said, “At the end of the day, I let myself have a glass of wine.”  As for me, I decided it was w(h)ine o’clock somewhere.

Fairly recently I got a stool I have been eyeing for a long time.  It is made from reclaimed teak wood and each is unique.  This one hadn’t sold because it has a natural small split right in the middle of the base.  They even gave me 20 percent off!  I really liked it and thought it had character.  After bringing it home I was thrilled to see it was a perfect height for our kitchen “bar”/counter area.  And I could not believe my husband would wind up loving it for when he reads the paper and has coffee in the mornings.  Our little one climbs up to have her after school snacks there.  It is so nice to have my sweet family in the kitchen now talking to me while I’m cooking!  The stool is seriously the most comfortable seat in the house!  I had no idea when I got it how well it would be used.  American actor Milo Ventimiglia said:

“I’m a homebody, I’d rather be in the kitchen cooking than hanging out in a bar.”

I am the same way.  Only now I have my own little place where my two favorite people in the world can come to hang out, talk, eat, and belly up to the bar.

A few years ago our microwave finally gave up the ghost.  When we got a new one I never ordered the trim kit to finish it out.  After two unsuccessful, frankly hellish attempts I FINALLY got what we needed.  The first time they sent me something for the inside of the microwave; the second time it was the wrong size.  I won’t mention the scratchy connections, dropped calls, and accents that could not be discerned.  (I have a really good ear and can understand just about anyone so that is really saying something.)  But hey at last I got it and I took it out of the box to assemble it.  In typical cat fashion said box was dutifully inspected and then turned into a romper room of sorts.  Pouncing on the screws, I hid them before the gatos discovered them.  I am handy, but I do not own a drill.  Weighing the cost of said drill versus trying to procure a reputable handyman who wouldn’t charge and arm and a leg, I opted to find a handyman.  That way I could also get the lightbulb under the breakable glass dome way up high in the laundry room changed.  It has been out since last spring when I broke my shoulder.  And I could get the door knob in my office reassembled after I had to systematically dismantle the darn thing with a toy screw driver.  The little one thought she was helping by locking it — from the inside out.  Turns out a drill is needed for that as well.  After multiple tries ranging from snotty to disinterested, at last I found a place and the legit handyman was able to accomplish all three tasks while being sniffed/kissed by the wolves.  Through it all he managed to keep a calm patience and maintained good grace.  Now our kitchen finally looks properly finished out instead of having our microwave sitting swallowed up in a yawning, cavernous hole in our cabinetry.  Even my husband came home from work and appreciated it!  American football coach Vince Lombardi once said, “The only place success comes before work is in the dictionary.”  I cannot say I was able to actually perform the tasks, but I CAN say it took a whole lot of work to get to these minor-but-major successes.  So go ahead — check out the new grill.