Both children have playdates over, which gives me an opportunity to write a little and catch up on laundry. The basement seems to be where I end up, often. Business and pleasure.
I should make a better effort to be more upbeat here.
One friend said recently, "you are such a different person in person, you laugh much more than you would think from your writing" another commented that I don't smile often, which is true.
I don't like to smile in photos, I feel like my mouth is too large and muppety.
I frequently fret about my lack of writerlyness and the mundane nature of my life.
When I got up (late for me at 9:00) this morning Mark told me that he hadn't been able to get the boys to eat anything.
I told him I would make some grilled cheese (in my family we always called them toasted cheese) sandwiches, surely no twelve year old boy would be resistant to the siren song of grilled cheese.
As we worked together pulling the sandwiches together, Mark said
" the key to grilled cheese is a hot pan."
I said "really? We are talking about grilled cheese? That is what we are doing, having a long an involved conversation about a fried sandwich?", but I was happy for my family, my hot pan and my not very conversational husband, just the same.
|no smile. I look a lot like my paternal grandfather. That is where the muppet mouth and the big head come from I think.|
|waiting for our guests to arrive|
|Ripley trying to cash in on dropped party food.|