Monday, December 8, 2008

You know sometimes baby I'm so carefree, with a joy that's hard to hide

Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday was a good day. Up early of course, but a little almost lie-in doze on the couch took the edge off. At about nine o'clock, Data took advantage of my drowsy state to sneak past me, dash upstairs and wake her mother. Common Law didn't seem too pissed off as I made the coffee, scrambled the eggs and poured the smoothie. So we all hung out for a couple of hours, I did little bits and pieces about the house.

Then it was into Purple Danger with the lot of us, to drop the matriarch in for her matinee. The Bridge Crew and I proceeded to proceed across town. As it was much too early to deliver Riker to her High School Musical Dance workshop, I thought I'd call unexpectedly in on my long-suffering sister. She was surprisingly unperturbed, so we did some more hanging out, eating sandwiches, admiring my iPhone, shooting the shit. Ellie decided she'd join myself and Data on the dreaded Rathmines shopping trip.

We delivered Riker to her three hour dance fest, did some recycling, then fought our way around Dunnes Stores. I mostly pushed the trolley as Ellie mostly controlled the Data. Next they hit the chemist while I shopped for Christmas books, scoring big time with an 'Atlas of Cunt' I mean 'Golf' for the Brinkerman. I covered a couple of other bases too. We hooked back up and belted up to Boots, bought the tedious 3 for 2's for the inlaws and finally returned to the Swan Centre for Data's much anticipated peanut butter and banana smoothie. I took a beautiful picture of my sister and my daughter. It still adorns my phone.

Another brief chill in the flat and it was time to pick up Riker. She burst out of the class, happy, having danced her heart out and made a friend. 'My feet are really sore!' she said, joyously. We decided on a stop by Daddy Rocket's on the way home. We ate and drank and knocked stuff over and laughed and peed and paid and jumped back in Purple and coasted home.

It was late by now, so we skipped the baths, and went straight to teeth and stories. Data and I read 'The Magic Porridge Pot', then me and Riker settled into 'Huckleberry Finn'. My Pakistani drawl drifted her off to sleep and I sat there watching her for a few minutes, breathing in her beauty and my love for her. I dropped in to Data to do the same.

And that, folks, tedious as it may be, is my definition of a successful day, and yes, a successful life.

12 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

Conan Drumm said...

Perfect. Well done to the guy with the gals.

Dave said...

I think that would be a lot of people's definition.

Red Leeroy said...

and not a keane in sight. Bravo. That made Monday almost Friday again.

Medbh said...

This post reads like a family hug, Gimme.
Sweet.

gimme a minute said...

Conan:
Thanks, dude.

Dave:
Apparently home-ownership figures a whole lot higher on the success barometer of some.

Red Leeroy:
No higher praise can I expect. Thanks.

Medbh:
That's pretty much how the day felt.

savannah said...

lovely and delicious, sugar! xoxox

stipes said...

As good as the Barry's tea ad.
Nice one.

grimsaburger said...

I would like to hear this "Pakistani drawl."

At our annual Kentucky Derby party a couple years ago, one of our Dubliner friends tried out his Southern accent on us. I believe my husband's response was, "I've heard better from a Chinese guy."

gimme a minute said...

Savannah:
Why thank you. Now back to the filth, depression and self-degradation.

Stipes:
Oh, you.

The ad would have lasted much longer than its allotted time-span if they'd had to sugar the tea as heavily as I sugared that offering.

Grimsaburger
I can do Northern Ireland, vaguely, but it makes me very, very unhappy.

Your Dublin friend most likely had a march on me.

Annie A said...

I like

The Hangar Queen said...

Lovely warming stuff Gimme.When it's good it's good.

All the better when it just happens like that.

gimme a minute said...

Annie A:
Only cause you're jet-lagged and pissed.

Which works fine for me.

Hangar Queen:
For sure, planning stuff rips all the joy from it. Accidental good times are the way forward.

 
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