My daughter is the luckiest girl in the world. Seriously, why I’m sitting on the couch and she’s not massaging my feet is beyond me. When I was 12, almost 13 years old, the highlight of my day was getting home and finding a potpie in the oven. My schedule went like this – 7 a.m. get up, 7:30 wait in the cold for the bus, 8:30 till 3:00 schoolwork, followed by a potpie, homework, dinner, then maybe, if I was lucky my parents would let me stay up and watch Dallas with them before bed. For fun I ran outside on the gravel in my bare feet and hoped a cousin would drop by.
Yesterday, Rachel got up, went to the horse barn, caught ponies, took a lesson, came home and went to a skating party. Today, she slept in, went to volleyball, had a guitar lesson, then spent a couple of hours practicing her math skills through a little exercise I like to call “bridge”.
It’s a good thing we’ve gotten all of the fun out of the way, because later this week we’re going to have a tough class in economics and a Masters level course in gerontology. My mom and Aunt Fay are coming to yard sale. That counts, right?