Fall is here. Outside the blustery side of Cape Cod is beginning to show itself. Leaves are changing each day with gilded sprinkles of color like a child who can’t paint inside the lines, and the wind is doing it’s best to shake those trees nekkid. I’m reluctant to turn on the heat because that would mean having to unscrew all the ancient spider-ridden grates and pick out all of Violet’s cling-on stickers, so we make do with extra blankets at night and extra baking during the day. After all, we’ve only nine days to go.
And I’m ready, but not ready. Turns out, there’s not much to do on Cape Cod if you don’t care for golfing or antiquing. Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure I could acquire a taste for both but I’m also under fifty and my income reflects that. On the plus side, small children aren’t much in to anything but playing, so I guess this location was ideally suited for us. Plus, it’s gorgeous here. Gor-geous. For those of you who would like to come here sometime, you should know that tourist season ends around the middle of September, meaning the prices drop, the people all leave, and the weather hits the peak of perfection.
I am ready to go home and have some interaction with other adults during the day while AJ is at work. Spending all day with The Littles/Thing One and Thing Two/The King and Queen/ breaks me at my weakest points and severely chafes at my stronger points. At the end of most days I feel as if I’ve re-met myself and discovered again the bottoms of my lowest lows in a never ending journey where Grace is more than just a staple for life. The good news is that His mercies are new every morning, and there is no better illustration of that than the way Violet greets me when she wakes up…all fuzzy-haired and squinty and smiling and cuddly.
Quote of the Day: “Henry, we’re men, but we’re not men who watch NASCAR.”