Perfect Time for Bloggin'

And I'll tell you why.

First off, Janneke's watching "Impromptu", which I've already seen, and which kind of bugs me somehow. Too dated, I think. When a 1990 movie (or whatever it is) tries to look like 1890 (or whatever it is), all I can see is 1990 (or whatever it is). Or whatever.

Second, I don't have to scurry off to practice the guitar, because I already did that.

Third, I don't have to clean the house in anticipation of Mark and Ronadh and Pete and Deniese coming over tomorrow, because I already did that.

Furthermore, I'm highly energized and wide-awake because of all the exercise I got today.

And lastly, there's all that stuff I just mentioned to tell you about.

Let's go in reverse order, shall we?

The exercise: Got up around 5:45 (before the alarm, for which Janneke is still grateful), bounded out of bed, did my morning exercise routine (stomach and push-ups), stretched, and zoomed off to Brad's to meet up for a 6:30, seven-mile run up and over Stone Hill behind The Clark Art Institute in Williamstown. I had no idea that whole network existed back there, and it is fabulous. Brad and I had a great, great run in perfect weather - slightly overcast, turning sunny, not hot, not cold, just enough damp in the air to keep you breathing easily, ground in the forest just soft enough from the gentle rain that had just ended when I rolled out of bed. I mean, perfect. Nobody got injured, and we finished it off with a nice pseudo-sprint of sixty yards or so.

Home to find T still asleep - she'd gotten sick last night and was sleeping off her late and uncomfortable turn in bed. Q was up, though, playing his Gameboy, and Janneke was also at the breakfast table, glowing after the first night in the last five where she hadn't had to go to the recliner because of her nagging allergy-induced cough.

More exercise to be had at the dump. Or, more accurately, in preparing to go there; and then, upon returning, the mowing of the grass. I had to hurry a bit, as the weather was looking threatening, and I didn't want to be stuck with no chance to cut it before tomorrow, when the guests come. And of course one thing led to another and suddenly I'm pulling up wayward saplings, watering all the grapes I've planted along the fence out back, moving the compost pile, weeding out the gravel bed in front of our guest bedroom window...So bloody much to do.

And then there's tomorrow's guests. We're having all the local Irishmen (Ronadh and Pete) and their respective spice and offspring for a cookout tomorrow evening, and it's going to be grand. Big weekend socially in general - we were over at Brad and Betsy's last night for dinner. The kids watched "Mama Mia", which is one of Betsy's favorite movies these days. ("They call it a chick flick," she grumbled, disbelievingly. "Yes," I should have replied. "And they call 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' a horror film.") Just a blast - kids engaged and well-behaved, and adults out on their new deck, shootin' the breeze. One of the highlights of the evening was when we began to express our frustration with the dance lessons T has been taking. We get letters reminding us of the dress code that the girls are to follow on their way to the lesson. It's just such mincing, infantilizing poofery, and Janneke and I can't take it much longer. Brad summed up his frustration with this line: "Dance is a pot up on the shelf of our culture for people to pour shit into."

Bull's eye.

On to the guitar practice, which I did after we got back from the park - where T, Q and I had gone around 4:15, having heard from Janneke that her final exam had gone long and she wouldn't be home for a while. (And where I discovered I can again do chin-ups without pain, so I did a few. That only took two years.) So when we got back from there, I grabbed a beer and the guitar and sat on the edge of our deck overlooking the back yard, where Q zipped back and forth, practicing soccer moves, T stalked the cat and Q and me with the digital camera and binoculars around her neck, and Janneke gazed out on all of us as she prepared supper. It was a grand twenty minutes or so, in which I learned a lot about the instrument. It's a real hoot lately to explore that darn thing more and more.

And that's how the day has gone, man. It was long, but not long enough, and now here we are, perched atop Mongo at its end, each doing his or her separate thing. Thank God for laptops...And, heck, for many, many things.

Shower time!