I’ve had one of those chasing your tails kind of days. I do tend towards headless chickeness where I start lots of things and don’t finish them. Wallpaper stripping, cupboard ripping out, knitting, sorting out drawers. Patios.
Today though in the glorious sunshine it was pretty hard to care too much. Since I’ve officially decided it’s all about the journey and not the destination it seemed churlish not to sit on a cushion in the sun knitting while Ida played in the sandpit (with the spider, it’s big enough to make its own castles.)
I’m flexing the BT muscles tonight – Lovely walk with friends in the park. We soaked up morning sunshine and threw sticks for Orlagh the beautiful Golden (Ginger) retriever. There was a small misunderstanding early on between her and Ida over the ownership of sticks but it soon settled into happy mutual stick appreciation. I love how thrilled Ida was to walk with her.
My friend’s going to give me a lift to buy sand for the slabs tomorrow, things are drawing together in a DIY style. I feel childishly excited about a trip to B&Q without having to worry about how I’ll get the stuff home on the bus. I’m not sure she knows what she’s let herself in for. In return I’m going to be moral support while she returns something. She’s known me since I was eleven – does she know me at all? I’ll probably end up apologising and paying them again for the faulty canvases. Kali help me. In fact, Kali – destruction and wrath – could you help me please?
I’ve been thinking about creeping plants I can put between the slabs. I’d like some thyme and violas and a mint, a little round leafed creepy one I saw in a magazine once. I muse aloud about its name, caucasian mint? Steve raises his eyebrows, “are you sure?” Obviously I’m the opposite of sure. Dear Google… aha – it’s Corsican mint. That’s the one. I’m going to get me some of that.
Ida and I pack the bag with our joint favourite picture books for the journey on Saturday. I put in drawing paper and pencils and a wide choice of confectionary bribery. I’m feeling excited and hopeful…and slightly apprehensive. Zeph asks if I’ll get into any fights – I’m appalled and quiz him why he would think this. He runs through a series of embarrassing mum incidents like the time I reprimanded a group of emo boys for littering and the time I lost my temper on the bus about the woman who wouldn’t move her buggy for a wheelchair user. I pretend I can hear the phone ringing and sprint inside. I feel a bit mortified. When did I morph into my mum. Is this inevitable?
The stock of baby wipes I keep in the piano stool has been magically replenished. I’m mystified but then realise it must have been Dad yesterday. Tears prick my eyes about his quiet re-provisioning. I send him a postcard with a bright red lipstick kiss thankyou on it.