Saturday morning

Am enjoying a beautiful sunny Saturday morning after a week full of life. Chicken little is saving the world in the other computer and I have my daughters beautiful head in my lap.
Life is very sweet, am missing Igor but at the same time I'm enjoying this girly time with my Baby.
Taught a whole bunch of classes yesterday and am right now feeling all of my 43 years, most of them in the lower back. Besides the regular teaching gigs I also have my dancing girls on Fridays and that always kickstarts the engine and perks me up, while it's also probably the main reason my body feels extra tender right now. But aches and pains aside, the week was a good one, and besides my body feels very much at home when physically exhausted , lived with it for many dancing years. I remember an old ballet teacher of mine who was about a hundred years old, skinny as a rake but with the energy of a very small, feisty dragon . She used to tell us students that the only thing that helped aching, hurting bodies was a big glass of scotch and a bath with epsom salt and from where I'm sitting, that prescription doesn't seem like a bad idea...
Unfortunately we don't have neither epsom salt nor scotch at home, am not eve sure if I really know what scotch is..., but I do have Mickey Mouse bath bubbles and ice cream and I have a feeling that although a different perscription from my old ballet teachers, they are enough similar in their comforting properties and will surely do the trick.

Today the washing machine, vaccum cleaner and the project of replanting our little vegatable garden awaits me. Chores that only a few years ago would have made me look upon this morning with a sense of disdain and resistance, but as incredible as it sounds to me, the former queen of procrastination, I'm actually looking forward to it, which makes me feel all grown up and ready for life at only the tender age of 43...Iomi however probably has a better take on it as she, when she describes us, says that we're just like two big kids that have a job and cook and stuff. Hmm, she might have a point there, but that doesn't deduct anything from this sense of accomplishment I feel from the fact that I am actually looking forward to my duties this morning

Remember 'The hours', the book/movie from a few years back? I think our grown up years are pretty well described in that title. Those hours compose most of our adult lives, when our luggage is already half full with experiences, memories and committments, and the few seconds of elation, despair and drama that occasionally break up the monotony are no longer what our lives are all about. I have come to terms with that and this is one of the reasons why Saturday morning laundry is so appealing. The hours, and the practicalities that come with the package, are my life, and no matter where I go or what I do, they will be my reality until the end, and that day when I lie there on my death bed I'm sure that these moments with my baby's head in my lap, or hanging the laundry on a sunlit Saturday morning while humming a tune, will stand out as extraordinary. As little gems that in hindsight will be revealed as 'what it was all about'. So to enjoy them now is, I suppose, in some way to truly appreciate life in all it's complex simplicity.


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