I live a pretty sweet life in Portland.
I keep busy but there is still plenty of time to linger over a meal.
To stop and smell the roses.
To practice yoga and meditation.
A nice gig!
Breakfast in Portland.
Grandmother Duty
Babysitting my baby granddaughter for a few weeks in Alabama, my Portland life seems far away. Did I ever enjoy leisurely meals?
Like a fireman I jump out of bed each morning and get dressed.
Off to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast, lunch and a few snacks before her parents leave for the day. I eat on the go with this precious little girl.
Breakfast in Alabama
Toast with almond butter, a smoothie, a hard boiled egg, some fruit and raw vegetables…I am set for the day. And of course coffee…lots of coffee!
Of course, everything has to be set way back on the counter to prevent Hank, the gigantic standard poodle, from noshing on my food!
Hold me!
Just the cutest baby ever!
Mabel has trained me to hold her most of the day.
Otherwise, she cries pitifully. She’s clever, that one!
I walk with her on my hip, try to read, let the dogs out and go about the day with this adorable, wiggly, chubby baby latched to my side.
“Peace at any price” is my motto and holding her is a small price to pay for serenity.
We are coming to terms with each other. I can prop her on the couch for short periods while I sip my coffee. Great progress!
Will work for snuggles.
Her newest thing is to wrap her fat little arms around my neck and put her head on my shoulder.
My heart melts. My aching back feels better. I love being with this little angel.
Mabel will be seven months old this week.
During the first seven months of her life I have traveled three times to Alabama to enjoy her and care for her.
Another tax season has come and gone. The government has a pound of my flesh and I am finished until next year. I wish that I could say that this year went better. Alas, not really. I am a creature of habit. I have recorded last quarter’s tax information on my tax spreadsheet. That’s a good start! Now to record each month as the year goes by. If I do that, my taxes next year will be a breeze! Wish me luck!
One of my spring rituals is to moan, groan and make everyone within a ten mile radius perfectly miserable as I get in the mood, find time for, and finally settle down to do my taxes.
If I would carve out a nanosecond of the hours I spend kvetching, I would be done in an afternoon. But no, I follow the same playbook each year which may be another definition for insanity. Here is my foolproof system for the dreaded tax day!