Liam, of course, had a wonderful afternoon yesterday with his godparents and came home all smiles. Ate like a small horse. Slept for an hour and a half. Bit no one. (Or so I assume, because I didn’t hear about it.) And then he ate a huge bowl of pasta and veggies in homemade cheese sauce for supper, had a fun bath during which he gave us very wet and tender hugs, and went to bed cheerfully. With those damn molars, it’s like Jeckyll and Hyde around here sometimes.
Filling the gas tank to the literal brim gave me an indecent amount of pleasure. Our gas tank hasn’t been full since sometime in late May. I just keep putting five or ten dollars in when gas prices dip down closer to a dollar, or when we need it. Pumping gas doesn’t rank as one of my favorite tasks — I don’t hate it, I’m just neutral about it — but I enjoyed every moment this time. It was extraordinarily satisfying.
HRH and I had a good dinner of leftover ribs and new potatoes drowned in butter with freshly ground sea salt and pepper. Simple, and utterly delicious. We watched a very good PBS program on the making of the Mars Pathfinders, followed by the second-ever RockStar: Supernova episode that I’ve seen, which I somehow feel that I enjoyed much more than I should have. It’s just become appointment television. (Gentle Readers, I am in a band, you know. We do play The Ramones and Metallica. And I’m fascinated by the art of arrangement.)
I received a deeply appreciated message from one of my oldest friends this morning, pointing out some positive truths that helped reinforce today’s saner perspective for me. I don’t have to always be perky and cheerful and resilient. Stress happens. Nerves understandably fray. And the stress gets worse because I care so much.
Today, I have a stack of Haydn string quartet CDs to rip to my computer as I work, because one can never have enough string quartets in one’s playlists. Then I may move on to ripping my Beethoven quartets. Then Schubert. Who knows? I lead such a wild and crazy life.