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Are we the only ones that find mornings this hard? My grandmother seemed to make mornings effortlessly. Of course, she woke at 5 A. M. every day. So by the time she got me up at a 6:30, she’d had an hour and a half to get her ducks in a row. Jon and I are so not getting up at 5 A. M. Just not happening. So our mornings are like most people that I know . . . frantic. But we’ve managed to fix real breakfast for the last two weeks. That was a new goal. Jon and I decided that we were going to get up early enough to have the kiddo have a cooked breakfast before school every morning. We cheated a little this morning, because she had blueberry muffins that we’d cooked yesterday morning. The three of us can’t eat a dozen muffins, so fresh muffins last two days, usually. Unless they go for afternoon snacky bits. Trinity loves blueberry muffins. Fresh baked anyway. If it’s a store bought muffin sometimes she only eats the blueberries out of it.
What really topped the morning schedule scramble this morning was that it stormed last night. I knew it had, but apparently I was the only one who realized how much it had rained. My family slept through it. I am the lightest sleeper in the house. I’ve always been the lightest sleeper in the house going back to childhood. Never know when someone might be sneaking up on you, gotta stay alert. Anyway, the rain turned the back yard into a morass. Jon had to wash the dogs off in the back bathroom while I did breakfast. Jon and I just didn’t think what the rain would mean since the part of the yard next to the house is still all dirt. They’re regrading and smoothing things out today. Supposedly the new brick patio will be started Monday. Why a new patio? One whoever did it the first time did a bad job, and the brick and mortar was disintergrating. Then the old sewer line that dated back to the late 1940s had to be replaced, and guess what, the line went right through the patio. So for many reasons a new patio is needed. But the back yard looks pretty desolate. It’s been really hard on Phouka since she is almost completely blind now. There is rock and cement pieces, huge dirt mounds. It’s a maze for the dogs and people that can see, so we’ve been carrying her down and back.
We turned a large tread track into a path through it. I kept joking that I felt like I was taking the trail down to the water hole. One morning I was narrating our trek in that nature program voice, “As we make our way down the narrow dirt path towards the water hole. We are on constant alert for maurauding lions, and the occasional leopard . . .” Jon grabbed me from behind at that point, which made me scream like a girl. Then he laughed his ass off, and I laughed too. He apologized, and said, “I just couldn’t help myself.” I’ll put him infront from now own. I guess what I really have to watch out for in the morning is maurauding husbands.
Anyway, that’s some of the highlights about why the morning was frantic. There were some other adventures like the chocolate crossoints that rose in the fridge overnight into one big Frankenstien mass, but that’s a blog for another day.