I have missed at least 5 of the Ligtning’s most recent games, and they were doing surprisingly well, actually winning a few, so I was excited to catch the 3rd period of last night’s game against the Washington Capitols. I am evidently a bad luck talisman for my team, because they lost 3-2, after teasingly dangling hope of going to overtime. Even with the kids’ help yelling at the TV, my team couldn’t pull through. Ah well. I now limit their exposure to my hockey team, lest they grow up thinking that is how you are supposed to play hockey, scoring as infrequently as possible, making gratuitously obvious penalties at the precise moment you can least afford to lose a player to the penalty box (I call it time-out), passing to either the other team or to vastly empty ice, etc. Who could live with that on their conscience?
We were blessed and honored with the presence of Dove today, who arrived with a sleepy smile and proceeded to effortlessly steal the spotlight. We danced in the kitchen, played with bubbles outside (where she was far more interested in spilling the bubble soap onto the ground than chasing bubbles), and sent out rescue teams for the cats, who dashed away from her with pleading, backward glances at me to save their tails.
Except Tweetie, Mr. Grumpy Cat, my stubborn old man who generally operates on the assumption that he owns the house and begrudgingly allows me to occupy space here…the high crime of interrupting one of his cherished naps, usually met with a ticked-off grunt and devilishly foul looks, was rewarded with sawing purring when Dove climbed onto the bed to investigate this soft, sleeping lump of fur. I was so proud of my grumpy old man as he permitted Dove to rub his belly, touch his hind feet (which for some reason he usually hates), poke his nose, and discover the joy of making his tail move. He was gentle and sweet, lifting his face to sniff her, letting her hug him, even enduring being used as an impromptu pillow.
The kids helped me water the plants today, which entailed spilling most of the contents of the watering can onto the carpet, missing the plant altogether and again watering the carpet, and dashing me horrified looks when I suggested that maybe I should carry the watering can, as well as sorrowful questions like, “Why aren’t you letting me do it?” as they stood right beside a river of water snaking across the carpet. Bear helped me remove yellow and brown leaves from an ivy, and he said, “Hey, this is kind of fun.” I already know someday soon I will walk into a room and be greeted with a once-lush plant stripped down to roots and a few straggly stems, and the protest, “But I was just taking off the yellow leaves!”
The weekend passed far too quickly, especially today.