A Very Good Day

Big Cuter arrived this morning.  Texting between the Cell Phone Waiting Lot (the cell phones were surrounded by cars, I guess, since I saw none of them occupying a parking space) and cyber-space, I alerted my soon-to-land son of my location. 

Soon-to-land, according to Delta.  Already down, according to the passenger.  Schrodinger's airplane
was his reply to my surprise. 

I love how my boy thinks.

We ate, the boys napped, and Not Kathy came over to loll in the pool with me while Dr. K visited the driving range.  If all goes well, they'll be Tucsonans by the end of the week.  We spent two hours deciding what I'll buy her for a housewarming gift. 

Big Cuter and I went to Whole Foods, collecting ingredients which he turned into dinner.  His joy when he discovered the exact brand of pretzel bread led the clerk who led us to it to give me a hug.  (How I raised children who love to cook remains one of the great mysteries of all time.)

Now he's sitting on the couch, trying not to tease his father.  When have I ever cheered for a Cleveland team? was his reply when his Daddy asked for just a little bit of support.  Because he loves his father, the kid won't be Celtics fan. But he won't be a Cavs fan, either.

They admire the same pieces of the game.  They rail at the same pieces of the game.  They drink Diet Coke and make references to obscure trivia and create Dream Teams within varying parameters. They are so relaxed, so in tune, so comfortable.... especially since the Cavs are up by 10 as I type this. 

My belly is full.  I have some fresh strawberries chilling for a special treat in my yogurt and on my cereal in the morning, and some macerating themselves in powdered sugar for strawberry shortcake tonight.  That's all the cooking I have to do, a fact which delights me. 

I can sit in my comfy chair, crocheting big squares for Giblet and his mom and dad and sister to snuggle beneath, breathing the same air as two of my favorite humans.