A Perfect Sunday

What makes for a perfect Sunday? It seems like a tall order, but here it is:

~Dave made waffles for breakfast. In other words, I lounged on the couch, read our local silly newspaper, drank my coffee, didn't worry about breakfast.

~I got an hour and a half walk with Lady. In the rain. In the sun. It was good. Saw the father of one of Grace's soccer teammates while on the walk, he hailed me as "Grace's Mom". Funny. I am "Sam's Mom" to the football team, as in, "Sam's Mom brought cookies!" I don't mind this as much as I probably once imagined I would.

~Came home from the walk, soaked, so just moved right outside to get the back part of the yard ready for the fence guys. When are they coming? No idea. But all the junk is dug up from under years of dried morning glory vines, Oregonberry shrubs, piles of dirt and rocks. The volunteer elm tree is gone, but its stump is not. Which means it will be back next year. Let the chickens out to enjoy the brief respite from the rain. They had a blast.

~Left-over Beef and Barley Soup for lunch.

~Loads of laundry in and out. Grand plans for baking bread, cleaning floors, all out the window. Curled up on the couch with Moby Dick (really, isn't it time to finally read it?) and a pint of Black Butte Porter. Quiet in the living room since everyone else was watching football. I could get used to football Sundays.

~Baked some chocolate-chip cookies because really, bread can be made tomorrow but cookies are important when people are watching football, playing football, and the butter has been sitting out for days, waiting to be transformed into aforementioned cookies. Sent a bag home with Nick, Samuel's best friend, to share the wealth and lessen the huge amount of cookies now sitting in the bin on my counter.

~Left-over beans and hamburger quesadillas for dinner. Put together by Dave. No cooking! Minimal dishwashing! Hooray!

~Throughout the day, rain, then brilliant sunshine, then a hardy wind that picked up speed and hasn't let up. The birch tree in the back is now mostly naked, a good size branch fell off the sycamore in front but missed the car, leaves are scattered everywhere, the sky splotched with grays and whites and blacks, movement all around and nice and calm inside with our lovely painted walls and toasty blankets to keep us warm.

~And now, a generous glass of wine, chickens put to bed, more football on the t.v., dinner menu set for the week (no beef, we've had enough the past few days, thank you very much), a request from Samuel to make chocolate-chip cookies for the football team since all have been hinting heavily at him the past week for "Sam's Mom" to make more cookies for them. Mrs. Cleaver with wine and Moby Dick and chickens. Why not?