Pretty day, and a quiet one for most of it.
After some energetic play, JK&G head into town. We plan to go in for dinner later, and I want to get that laundry and packing started.
Kat calls in the midst of it to let us know there’s a huge fair in town—mostly Travelers from the looks of it. The town’s packed with people, and there’s no parking as stalls now spread through the car parks.
Change of plans. The gang will now pick up what we need to expand our leftovers into dinner at home.
So I get a good start on packing and gathering and organizing, and enjoy the view.
When they get back, Griffin’s already out for the count, so it’s nap time. I see what I can do about making meatballs for the left-over spaghetti.
I do not like this stove! It’s a complicated PITA, and I need Jason to get the oven on for me. Kat got a lot of meat! So we’ll have a whole bunch of meatballs.
Griffin’s up, and while Kat makes a cheese and broccoli soup, I take him out for a walk in the stroller.
He sings to himself as we walk down our quiet road. No jacket required on this balmy evening. There are three cottages on this stretch, and the one at the far end isn’t occupied.
So we explore, go around the path—spot an orange tabby that streaks away—and around to the patio.
We stroll back, but since we’re both having a good time, do the circuit again.
There’s a fountain formed by a huge ball, and he very much enjoys. There are bits of a river view, but mostly it’s gorgeous stretches of land, green and green, and the rise of hills.
The air’s so sweet, the light so soft, and the baby’s singing quietly to himself.
Back in for about a half hour of chaos putting the meal together. Stupid stove!
But it all turns out just fine. We have meatballs and some spaghetti with marinara. Some pasta with olive oil and herbs, the soup, salad, garlic bread.
Nobody goes hungry, and we’ve made a heroic mess of the kitchen.
Jason bought pastries in town, but I have something Griffin and I will like more. An ice cream bar. He sucks that down.
He plays with Daddy while Mama attacks the massive kitchen clean up. But wait—he spies my tablet, and lets it be known he hasn’t had his daily dose of Shaun T.
The minute it comes on he grins. We watch every one, with him mesmerized and often keeping time with one hand. He’s not done, so I switch to Brazilian Butt Lift. Hey, pretty girls.
He’s satisfied with this, but wants daddy to hold him and watch, too. The boy’s tired. He’ll flop his head on Jason’s chest or shoulder, then jerk back, waving his hand as if to say: No, I’m still partying! Flop, jerk, wave.
Until a flop involves eyes closing.
That seems to be it, so up I go finish packing.
It’s not long before I hear Jason, and those little running feet. Revived, Griffin’s ready for the nightly game of run into Nana’s room, get a tickle attack, squeal outrageously, run, run back, repeat.
Our boy ends his day as happily as he started it.
Packing’s about done.
Gray clouds are streaming across the sky, and the wind’s stirring up. Likely rain coming in.
We’ll miss our views out our cottage windows, and the long hallways up and down for Griffin to run. But it’s onto Mayo in the morning, and lots to see on the drive through Clare and Galway.
Jason’s finishing up laundry as they’ve about got Griffin down for the night. It’s all quiet now, inside and out.
I’m writing the blog now so I’m not rushed tomorrow. We’ll take our time on the drive, enjoy the journey.