It's been a ragged morning...and since I just told you how my mornings go, you should know that if I say ragged, it's pretty close to close-the-shades-Harry-I'm-climbing-back-in-bed awful. And hard to see God in any of it. So don't expect it. I'm just saying...
First, E wasn't home for Jamaica to cuddle with so the second Beve closed the door behind him at some pre-dawn hour, Maica was up on my bed, curled up on my back and I'm pretty sure she hyper-extended it, if such a thing is possible. Then I started having dreams about SK's Theater History paper, which she had a panic attack over last night right as I was drifting off to sleep. Last night when I got her worried text, I reached for my robe and pressed 5 on my phone at the same time, then walked out of our room to where my laptop was waiting for me. We spent about half an hour going over her paper, then I went to bed.
But clearly didn't stop thinking about it, since I was still considering edits she could make this morning. I'm telling you dreaming about a college research paper--hers or anyone else's--is not the way I like to start my day. As I was talking to her this morning (she's in a much better place with it, will finish it ahead of its due time tomorrow, though she does have 50 million other things to complete by tomorrow as well), Beve called. I didn't interrupt SK to talk to Beve, so he called the house phone. Then J stumbled out of his room talking on his phone. Apparently the emergency had reached critical proportions for him to awaken J!
When I finished talking to SK and called Beve back, he asked me to run across town (in the next 20 minutes!) to pick up pizza for him. Oh, and by the way, when he drove my car yesterday, the gas light was on. But not to panic, he was pretty sure I'd make it to a gas station without running out of gas. Let me just tell you, one of my chief (though trivial) anxieties in life is running out of gas. One dark and stormy night (wow, that sounds like a good opening line for a novel!), when E was a fifth grader, she and I did that, right in the middle of an intersection of Old Olympic Highway and a county road that had the ridiculous name of 'Kitchen Dick' road, don't ask me why. Given that we were truly dead center, with no one in sight, I had to push while my 10-year-old drove... right into a ditch. A show of hands if I've told this story before! That so traumatized me that Beve was apologizing about the state of my car's tank before I'd even said a word. He knows me, that Beve does.
I did make it to Costco to get the pizza, where the lines were horrific. Standing in line, I thought I saw a woman pulling her baby by its leg out of her cart. Just about had a heart-attack. I whipped my head around to stare straight on, and it was merely a baby doll which she handed to her small daughter. Then I tried to pick up the pizzas, forgot that my stupid back is still out and I'm a complete wimp if I can't lift pizza boxes without pain!. I lugged them to my car, then went to the pumps where the lines were even more atrocious. Dropped the pizza off at Beve's school, and drove home. All before I had a single cup of tea this morning.
And now I'm exhausted. I know, doesn't seem like much to those of you used to 47 thousand appointments and errands before I'm out of bed, but without caffeine? Really?
Now I'm waiting for E to get home so we can decorate our beautiful Noble Fir we cut down yesterday in a torrential downpour. But there was one moment that made my entire day. When I went to the little out-building to pay for the tree, the proprietor of the tree farm (who bore a striking resemblance to Santa Claus, complete with red suspenders!) invited us in for some hot cider and popcorn. I declined--we had other places to go in our rain-soaked clothing, and Beve and E were idling their vehicles impatiently (yes, I know, two cars. Sorry, but two different places to go!). Santa said, "Your kids will love the cider." To which I answered, "My 24-year-old daughter will be fine. She's on her way to a party." Santa said, "What? You don't look old enough to have a child that old. Were you 4 when you had her?" Mrs. Claus hopped up to take a look as I laughed. "More like almost 30," I answered, though I was really only 28. She said, "That makes you my age. That's impossible." And that, my friends, made it all worth it. That one moment made my day.
But I'm telling you, if they could have seen me this morning, they'd have guessed 20 years the other direction!
Some days are like this. I only hope there's tea in my immediate future, or there's likely to be a headache in it.
And that will make the ending worse--far worse!