Maundering is much like musing, only less coherent. It's as good a label as any for assorted random synaptic events.
I had every intention of doing last week's Ten on Tuesday, ten reasons to participate in Ten on Tuesday, but, oddly, I couldn't think of anywhere near ten. Usually in that case I can always make stuff up, or change the topic, but this time my mind was a blank, aside from the screamingly obvious "without ToT you'd hardly hear from me at all." I did eventually come up with a few more:
- You can compare answers with your friends.
- It often makes you think.
- In fact, it's rather like being set an essay in school, except that...
- You don't get graded, and you can change the topic if you feel like it.
So there you have it: five on what should have been last Tuesday but is actually today, Monday.
Today was Taz's last day of five years with the same teacher in the same school. It was hard for her, and her two wonderful assistants, to say goodbye, and it'll be hard for us too, but his new school promises to be great for him and an adventure for all of us. I took him there for the morning last Wednesday, everything went great, and they're looking forward to having him. The change of school will also mean a change in schedule, since the new school is half an hour down the interstate, and I suspect I'll be getting up earlier and getting acquainted with a new van driver. We've been lucky enough to have the same driver for several years as well, a lovely man named Ed, whose near-saintly patience stands him in good stead when he has to fiddle with the wheelchair lift on a sleety January morning, without gloves, since he needs his fingers for fiddling. It finally dawned on me along about late March that I should be doing what I could to alleviate things, and, timing being ever my strong suit, I gave him these today.
Handwarmers in my own Sunday Brunch stitch. One of these days I will write out the pattern (I know, I always say that, I will, really), if I can tweak the thumb increases so they blend in more smoothly. (They're on the side of the thumb, so you can't really see them unless you're looking for them; if you do look, however, they're more obvious than I would like.) Of course these are completely useless in June, but with luck Ed will think of me warmly next January. (I did slip an ever-practical DD's card inside one of the mitts.)
Miss B has been out of school since last Thursday, and she too will be changing schools, but she won't have far to go: she will move about 100 yards down the hill from the junior high to the high school.
High. school. One short walk for a kid, one holy-cannoli-how-did-this-happen leap of the heart for parentkind.
I didn't do any eye candy last Friday. Here's some from Maine, where the Fiber Frolic and the irises (and the lupines, of course), were splendid, if a trifle damp.
That didn't stop the sky and the ocean from putting on a show. Fred and Ginger, wherever you are, look to your laurels.
Hey, guess what tomorrow is.