Mostly I’ve been feeling my mattress or sofa cushions today, as has been the case for the past week. Just being out and about for a few hours on the day we bought the car absolutely flattened me again. See that first item over there in my side bar? Trust me, I’m aware. Really aware. The phoenix act always follows eventually, though, so just bear with me. Patient folk are definitely treasures, and I treasure you all muchly.
Now if only I could figure out which back yard is hosting the delicious-smelling Mother’s Day barbecue. The aroma has been wafting in my window for the past hour and it’s driving me to distraction. One of my chefs is at work and the other is as limp as I am, so no fancy schmancy Mother’s Day meal for me here tonight. I’ll get the gourmet treatment tomorrow instead, but I’d still like to track down that barbecue and see just how friendly the neighbours really are. But that would mean walking farther than the back door, and I can hear my wobbly legs chuckling in that irritating, “ain’t happening, Sunshine”, way.
Having said all of that, though, the sense of humour is still intact, my nearest and dearest still love me to bits, and it has been a beautiful spring day. So, all in all, it’s still a lovely Mother’s Day.
Being a mother is still lovely, too. Always has been, and always will be.