Whenever one of the cats gets really spun up, running around like a little maniac, jumping at imaginary foes, we ask out loud, "who plugged the cat up with a bunch of quarters?" We sometimes accompany this accusation with hand gestures of spinning a crank and turning it loose to cause havoc everywhere. In that vein, I have reason to ask, who loaded up my neighborhood with quarters? This is a Monday. A random Monday, not even a holiday quite yet. Every doofus with a big, loud vehicle has gone roaring past my house in the last 24 hours. People are being loud and active in a way that is weird and remarkable, but thankfully not menacing. And of course, all the fireworks. It's only going to get louder from here. Yay. Saoirse can handle it, other than needing to bark the front windows out, but poor Murray doesn't like the booms.
I just don't get that level of activity. Not on a day like this. I "graduated" from physical therapy, for the lymphoedema in my arm. It seems to be settled down enough that I don't need frequent monitoring anymore. I will always have to pay attention if it gets puffy or hard, but I'm clear to live normally with it. I followed up that with a short nap and then a massage. I mean, really, I am the complete opposite of spun up. I feel fantastic.
In the middle of the day, Papa took the toddler to the park, so her mommy could get housework done without having to chase her all over the place. He sent back some videos and absolutely gorgeous photos. I have to be honest, I think they are too good to borrow and post here. We are trying to be conscious about how much we put her image out there, until she's old enough to control her own social media. Today's picture playing in a rain puddle is Madison Avenue marketing level, and I don't dare let the internet get its grubby hands on this one. Instead you get the photo he sent me yesterday, with the specific intention of sharing here, from our front fruit orchard.
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