Girlfriend in Tacoma

Jan. 7, 2008 at 6:49pm

A perfect weekend

(no, really!)

Friday night's stormy gusts must have knocked the backyard gate open, because on Saturday morning after I let the boys out for their morning tinkle, they didn't come back.

In true "I am not a morning person" fashion, I didn't even realize pups were gone until the kid woke up and I felt a calming, refreshing sense of... peace.  This lasted approximately 8.3 milliseconds, right up until I realized the boys had flown and we were set into "immediate action" mode, with me barking out orders like a First Sergeant.  "Boots! Blankets! Leashes! Check!!" -- "but mom, I'm still in my pyjamas!" "They're long, you'll live, let's go let's go let's go!!"

Driving around, we found pouring rain and ominous skies, but an odd sun break treated us to the most amazing and vivid double rainbow I've seen.  Regrettably, "Camera!" wasn't part of the puppy-retrieval kit, because I would have liked to have captured the sight.  Even still, it worked as an omen, as we only drove a few blocks until I saw a familiar flash of brown and white that was either Tank or Bill; we pulled over faster than a wino to a convenience store, and with a quick "C'mon puppies!" the two smelly, wet, muddy, nasty dogs were in my newish, cleanish car, shifting blankets out of the way so they may better dirty all surfaces.

Hence, my morning was altered, from sewing up a quilt, to cleaning (dog wash), cleaning (nasty tub),cleaning (interior of filthy car) cleaning (muddy walls), and cleaning (muddy floors) some more.  And since I was at it anyway, utilizing the fine old British adage "in for a penny, in for a pound" I decided to put my eastern european heritage to good use and scrub  the kitchen tile grout.  Three hours and two packs of Safeway brand magic erasers later, my floors, puppies, and home were blindingly, wonderful-smellingly clean, my hands were fried, and I felt a profound sense of accomplishment.

The kid, who'd been a rock star throughout the process, was almost done with the "hang out at home" stuff by her 3rd screening of some horrifically vapid Strawberry Shortcake movie, so I decided to treat her to a swimming date (and treat myself to a good short run in the YMCA family room) --which became a longer (4.5 mile) run when she made some fast friends and was quite content to play as I sweated.

After a swim, a McDonald's kid's meal (there was a Strawberry Shortcake toy, and yes, I felt guilty buying her that crap) and a quick shopping trip for food for canines, we were home and had a nice family evening.

So there it was, Sunday, and I had no quilting done.  Since the man was off on another day of drill, I had yet another day in the sublime state of "don't have to answer to anyone, be anywhere, or get out of my sweats" 

I cranked up the Classic King while the kid and I made snickerdoodles and talked music, history, tempo, stories, feelings, and danced; then the quilting fun and games began and the radio switched to NPR.

The man came home after I had finished all of my 9-patches, and we had yet another peaceful family evening with the five of us all together and accounted for.

In hindsight, the weekend wasn't crazy fun, nothing fabulously cultural and community oriented happened, we didn't hang out with friends, nor did we consume any quantity of alcoholic beverages (yep, you read that right: not a drop of wine nor a bubble of beer passed our lips this weekend.)

And yet, it was perfect.

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musing her way through arts, culture, dining, shopping, exercising, and parenting, all while wearing a pungent, truffle-like aroma.

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