Thankful for a quiet morning

It has been so great having my parents, sister and brother-in-law here, but I'm starting to feel extremely pooped. We've been living it up like we're all 18 again which we are decidedly not. The rehearsal dinner, wedding, anniversary party, my anniversary, celebrations of being together, the boys! We have had so much fun, but suffice it to say that my body is telling me to draw the reins tight and slow this horse down. Dad left Wednesday, Mom and Michele leave tomorrow, I'm teaching in the morning - yay! hope to see many of you at Twins Ace Hardware where we'll be putting up a batch of Strawberry Rhubarb Pie jam- and at some point, I really, really need to get a 4x batch of short ribs ragu made and frozen. I always find it fun to put life on hold for a bit, be it vacation, a self-imposed time out from the daily grind, or hosting family and/or friends. But after a week, I find myself coasting back down the bell curve of zen and in doing so realize that my unread email count has reached a troublesome apex, the pile of unread newspapers - forlorn with neglect - is too large to ever delve into and so must be recycled post haste lest it create "what have I missed" anxiety, I'm flying by the seat of my pants with regard to what's going on at school (did I pack what's needed today? did I forget something important? where is that sheet that needs to be signed?) and I've no idea what's in the inner depths of my fridge.

For me, this is no good, and so this morning, I am grateful that the boys are at school, Mom/Elia/Michele are at the Newseum, Percy is snoring, is Nutmeg in that box?, and T is working. I am thankful for quietude and peace and an opportunity to get my home back to some recognizable state. It's a cold, gloomy, wet day, but I care not other than that I worry for my veggies trying so hard to grow outside. Surely the tomatoes do not like being blown around in chilly wind, and I know the basil is miserable. The greens are going hog-wild, but I ache for summertime and all its attendant produce and wish to usher out my collards and kales to make room for peas, cukes and delicate herbs like chervil.

The dishwasher is humming, the wine glasses are upside down on a now-very-damp dishtowel, last week's tulips are dropping their petals with abandon, and the ever-present laundry awaits. For now, I'm going to stay nestled in my big, red, comfy chair, legs propped on my big, red, comfy ottoman, until I finish my coffee. Nutmeg, stop biting my toes.