We went to Mass last night, and Bill is dropping the older boys off to go canoeing today.

Bill plans to take Jenny out for lunch and to get her ears pierced – her birthday present.

I’m listening to my irreverent “Sunday Morning” playlist.  One of my favorite songs is Sunday Morning Coming Down, and my version has the Man in Black singing in a slow, mournful tone, much sadder than the version here.  If you’ve never felt lonely or separated from the love of God, you won’t get that song.  If you felt that way once upon a time, it will remind you to be thankful you no longer do.

The other songs on the list are very singable.  I picked them because they remind me of songs my father might have sung on weekend mornings, playing his guitar and serenading his sleeping children until they awoke.  Some of the songs, like Bed of Roses, are thematically inappropriate for children, and yet, my children know them as well as I did at their age.  Other songs, like Summertime by Kenny Chesney, are modern, but my dad might have learned to play them had they been out 30 years ago.

There are no church songs in my playlist.  I hope you still love me after that confession.

I’m stuck in my kitchen/family room area, because I’m making waffles.  Everybody has eaten their fill, but I’m making 4 batches, which should get us through the week.  I have one waffle iron, and it takes 6 minutes to cook.  Each batch makes about 6 waffles.  I’m not doing the math for you, but I won’t be going anywhere for a bit.  Perhaps my blog reading will get caught up.  Or my checkbook will be balanced.

I turned the A/C off two days ago.  That’s the first time since April, I believe.  I wore jeans last night since we went to see a movie at an outdoor venue.  I love fall.  We scrounged for warmer clothes last night, and I think I might have to do that whole clothing swap soon. 

Not today.

Today I’m going to sit and make waffles.  And take some deep breaths.  Maybe a nap.