malaxage ~ softening of clay by kneading it
It’s Monday. Here we are again.
*Looks around aimlessly*
So...how was your week? What about your weekend?
I have to say, last week was a pretty slow news week in my little corner of the world. So slow in fact I forgot about posting my poem on Friday. Oops!
And yet I made several rather lengthy entries in my journal - mostly mundane stuff about housework and babysitting and taking the grandbaby to play group. And of course there was the requisite whining, mostly about housework and babysitting and taking the grandbaby to play group. LOL
No matter how well or how often you do housework, there’s always more to do. It’s like getting rid of junk that collects in your closet - more junk always seems to take its place. So while I knocked off a few things, like cleaning the corner of the dining room where the cats have been misbehaving and dusting the corner cabinet, there’s always more tasks left to do.
The grandbaby was in full mischief mode last week. Not bad or bratty, just full of energy and getting into things. Like Friday. After play group we went to Walmart to get some cupcakes to take to Grappy at his office, one of her favorite things to do. And because by that time Grammy’s energy was flagging, I picked myself up an iced coffee. Which got dumped all over the floor of the kitchen when I nipped outside to look for my phone.
And there were a couple of completely unrelated journal entries, like the one I made about the daughter’s baby robins. She has a small ornamental tree outside her living room window and every year a robin builds a nest in it. The eggs always hatch, but usually the cat across the street gets the babies before they can fly off. This year, however, the daughter caught the cat in the attempt and chased him away with a broom. I would have paid good money to see a video of that! ;-)
Anyway, I checked the nest last Monday and there was only one baby left. There’d been three altogether and two of them flew away on the weekend. The last one was too scared to leave the nest, poor guy. So after the grandbaby went down for her nap, I stood at the open window and gave him a pep talk.
I guess he must have listened to me because the next time I checked he had left the nest and had made it as far as one of the branches beside it. He looked at me a little accusingly, and I think he was trying to get back into the nest but he couldn’t get turned around. At any rate, he did eventually fly away.
When I thought about it, I realized he was a braver bird than me. I went straight from my father’s house to my husband’s. So technically I never did leave my nest.
Something to think about.