Here's what's on at our house ... the crockpot and the oven. And the television. And the computer. And the baby monitor. This morning, I was browning beef at 7:45. Not, perhaps, the ideal odour to send wafting through the house at that hour; the recipe is for sweet and sour beef. It also has chunks of green pepper, onion, and carrot, and I've added a block of tofu, just to ensure no one will like it. You know, it wouldn't feel like supper if someone wasn't exclaiming, "Ewww!" I'm also baking brown rice. Have cleaned green beans to be cooked up fresh when we burst through the door after 5 o'clock, having run the music marathon: pick up children early from school, plus neighbour friend, burn carbon across town to piano lessons and early childhood music class. Tonight, I'm adding in a quick trip to the shoe store to buy Albus a pair of non-destroyed runners. He and Apple-Apple are participating in running club at school, and after the first session, last week, Apple-Apple was glowing, she loved it, and Albus said, nope, not much fun. Too much running.
Tell me about it, kid.
But here's the thing, I'm running, but I feel happy. I'm trying to fit perhaps slightly too much into this raggedy suitcase called Life, but I'd rather do that than the opposite. To everything there is a season. I appreciated the summer season a great deal. It was languid and a bit boring, as perhaps it should have been, because I'm filled with renewed energy.
No time to elaborate; but hope to soon. It's time to wake a sleeping babe ...
missing london, part one
14 hours ago