I left work on Friday in high spirits, I guess, as I took this picture of traffic on my way home.
Please note, that blue sky is deceiving. Friday was a night slated for a garden party with girlfriends and crafts and lemonade. Alas, it was too chilly, so I had to move indoors and serve tea along with lemonade.
We stayed up late and this is what I faced Saturday morning:
Then I take a photo break.
It’s because I misplaced my camera sometime on Saturday and didn’t find it again until Monday morning.
In the interim of photos: clothing swap. Grad party. Meeting-about-my-play. Giant birthday(s) party at my house.
And then, Monday morning.
I woke up before the rest of the family and hung out until Christine came home from midnight shift and Paul lumbered into the kitchen and said, “Do you want to go to the parade?”
Paul loves Memorial Day. It’s one of his favorite holidays for some reason. So I made some toast and we got on our bikes to ride downtown.
We parked our bikes and walked into the crowds of flag-waving children, clapping adults, and overwhelmed canines.
The older I get the more perplexing Memorial Day becomes. I appreciate the work of our troops. I appreciate the sacrifice of their families.
But I also feel like some wars are not “just conflicts”–men and women sent to battle by men and women who will never see a battlefield. And I know that most wars are not fought justly, either.
These are things I wrestle with at parades.
So then I came home and gardened and cleaned and wrote some more play…and cuddled with the Kiwi, just for kicks.
Today I saw my reflection in a window as I crossed at a crosswalk and realized…black shoes! Gasp! After Memorial Day! 🙂
Small matters, though.
Happy Tuesday, everyone!