Thursday, May 17

The Manic End of the Mundane

Day-to-day life isn't all that thrilling. It is adorned with beautiful moments and endearing touchstones, certainly. The tapestry as a whole is gorgeous. But each individual stitch, or load of wash, can cause even the most avid spectator to wonder what the fuss is about.
Then come the times where every stitch must be made double-time. For the organizationally impaired among us, those are the crazy times. That's when it seems as if the children must be fed every hour on the hour, even though they somehow take two hours to eat a meal. And although everyone is wearing the same clothing this afternoon as they had on this morning, the laundry pile might lead a conspiracy theorist to posit that everyone has changed undergarments at least a dozen times since breakfast.

And the birds with their nest in the diatomaceous earth bag on the porch laid *more* eggs before we could get rid of it. Heck, before we even realized the first batch had fledged. BUSY!



All the weather-contingent projects come due. All the spring activities need planning. Trips, tours, projects, people. Allergies and colds. Dumb choices. Sad consequences. Moving on, and up. When it hits, it hits hard and fast.

Those group leaders? They have a running bet to see who can drive you to cry, drink, or slip away to Fuji first. That's got to be it.

Bills? Again? Already? Are you *sure* we didn't just pay those...

And those chickens?! Well, none of the second batch have died. But now there are 31 chickens in a space designed for 18-20. It's going to get ugly, folks. It's already smelly. I can't lie to you.

Schedule, plan, teach, cajole (that's mostly me that needs cajoling). Clean, time, test, train, withdraw, deposit, pray, pray, pray.

But it's good. The stitches are a little ugly, but the picture that's emerging is nice.

Laughter.

Wonder.

Joy.

Growth.

Love.

I need an organizer, a wife, and a shock collar. Don't ask - plausible deniability is best. Just slip me a box. I'll be on the porch, with the mojitos.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

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