Sunday Morning Coming Down (apologies to Kris Kristofferson.)

I love spring weekends. The first day in the yard with the sun at your back coaxing colors to burst through the soil with their happy little faces; birds chattering and neighbors strolling by laughing at you as you sweat and they saunter. Even the beady eyed little squirrels scoping out where my bulbs are hidden don't get me down.

It's only later that my un-spring-seasoned muscles turn on me and I remember that I don't really do squats anymore or rake or turn and twist to fill lawn bags full of the stuff I should have gotten rid of last fall. Kristofferson recovered from his drugs on Sunday morning; I recover from mine.

Happily for me, the back porch was beckoning. It had been full of our garage stuff, but now it's clean and offering a nice little recooperative space. As we cleaned up last week, Alison decided it was time to take down her artwork that had been decorating a far wall since she first started putting paint to paper.

Now, it's prime time for Sunday morning with the paper and coffee, family dinner and home to the Back Porch Beauty Shop where we'll paint nails and probably straighten hair. Jeff put an old boom box in the garage years ago so he could rock out when he grills. It now plays mostly country music, much to his and Ali's chagrin. I'm pretty sure the neighbors side with me.

We have a Monopoly game spread out on the dining room table. I was playing the part of the mogul. Jeff and Ali were cash poor and horsetrading when we had to break for bedtime and somehow we haven't gotten back to it. Funny how that works.

We had a bit of excitement this morning when Alison woke up without her bottom retainer. I hadn't had two sips of coffe before she came rushing at me all panic-stricken with the news. She wears the bottom retainer only when she sleeps so while I we were going through her room, I was pushing aside visions of her sleep walking and flushing the thing down the toilet.

We spent a good hour on the job before Jeff got up. He joined in before he went off to basketball and he was certaint that the laws of physics had been broken. "It couldn't have just gotten out of your mouth on its own," he said, ordering her hither and yon throughout the house.

I took a break and reasoned that it had to be in the house somewhere. Ali and I went back at this. This time actually removing furniture in our zeal to check every nook and cranny. The room is tiny but she loves it and refuses to move downstairs to one at least triple the size. I eventually stepped on the missing retainer after moving her bed and sweeping for the 12th time.

I just barely lived through her hug of thanksgiving but it didn't seem right to stop her. Oxygen is over-rated.

In any case, the aches (both self-inflicted and from my child) are worth the already burgeoning color in the yard and the still-straight smile on her face. Jeff had fantasy baseball drafting, basketball and work at the office to do so we didn't much of him this weekend. What we did see was kind of handsome as you can see below. I have that shot only because I was teasing a reporter who'd reported that Indy is among the worst dressed cities in America for men. I sent her that shot as proof that the report is wrong. (I didn't share the ones that supported the report...)

In any case, the captain is home, Blake Shelton is crooning from the garage and I have wine leftover from another fabulous Friday Book Club. Our book was "The Good Earth." How ironic is that?  My earth was better to me than poor Olan; better husband and family, too.

It's good to have a weekend. And a back porch.