I thought the doldrums of winter were about over, until we woke up today to a dreary, cold morning, where the dripping rain seemed to me like the sky was crying. Our princess diva dog, Sadie, seemed to think that she should not be subjected to puddles, even though she lived the first ten of her thirteen years out of doors. Her pitiful eyes looked at me as she stooped to do her business, cruel Yaya on the porch demanding that she go potty. I think that Georgia winters are the most malevolent, because we get hints of spring all the way from Thanksgiving through April, shot through with thunderstorms, icy days, cold spells and full-on summer afternoons. There's no rhyme or reason, but lots of hope. Thank God, winter is short here. I wouldn't talk so much about the weather except I just can't help it and I'm getting maturer. That's what we'll call it.
Two of our young grandchildren stayed with us over a protracted spring-break weekend (that means long), with Papa and I playing tag-team a dozen times. God made him a lot more resilient than me. I get bumfuzzled over whether to have barbecue or Mexican, much less how to get everyone dressed while getting dinner on the table. I used to do that easily, with four young children, but apparently lost the skill along the way. I wish I could be one of those super organized, crafty Grandmas who have things laid out and ready when the grands come to visit, but that will never be me. I have accepted this. I am more like my own MawMaw, where we were lucky to be found alive after a weekend with her. Our favorite activity at her house was to dam up the nasty creek behind her house and make a giant mudpuddle out of it. Our second favorite was to put pennies on the railroad track by her house and wait for trains to run over them. Third favorite was to hunt for Coke bottles all over town, take them to the grocery store and return them for nickels and then get ice cream cones at the local diner. At my house, grandchildren have free range in my art studio, and there will be paint, paper cuttings, lots of trash everywhere, and usually very little TV watching (no, that does not involve imagination...we're not having that). We also have music. But sadly, there's nothing cutesy. I wish I had the energy.
Yesterday, little Caiden (4 years old) asked me why we didn't have goldfish in our small pond anymore. I told them they had all died when someone sprayed stuff on the yard awhile ago (it was me; maybe I can bring myself to tell him sometime). I felt duty-bound to find him some more fish. We hauled ourselves along our paths yesterday to get some of those cheap little feeder goldfish. They only cost 16 cents each and will eventually grow to be gigantic, given time, food and a little luck. Last night, Papa consented to one more place to try our hand at finding them (after a very satisfying supper at Hudson's BBQ), so we pulled into Pet Smart. He parked the vehicle, put on the sunvisor and promptly went to sleep while the kids and I went inside. We hit paydirt and got 20 tiny goldfish. Caiden and his sister, Madelyn, also picked out gifts for one of my client's cats (for a closing tomorrow -- she'd rather have that than a restaurant card). When we got home, we acclimated the fish bags to the pond water then released them. They darted to the bottom, where they'll wait for winter to quit acting up.
Easter is a-comin' -- I can feel it in my bones...
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