And I'm Not Sharing

My husband took my daughter to dance class today. It just so happens that her dance class is right near his favorite pizza place, so I encouraged him to bring my son along and go out for pizza after class, just the three of them. He thought that was a great idea.

And it was. Because guess what happens when he takes both the kids out? I get to do anything I want, and I don't have to share.

I already started, by eating a pumpkin custard with whipped cream. And nobody ate my whipped cream before I got to it. Or asked for the last bite of my custard.

You know what else I can do when no-one else is home? I can use the bathroom without an audience. On either side of the door. I can even take a bubble bath without a certain small person getting naked and jumping in with me. And bringing approximately 1,427 bath toys with her.

I can sit at the piano and belt out every Broadway tune I know (and they are legion) without anyone requesting that I a) stop singing, or b) sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" or "Boop Boop Dittum Dattum Wattum Choo" instead. Or cringing at missed accidentals. (I'm a good singer, but my piano playing is more enthusiastic than it is skilled.)

I can read whatever cheesy novels I choose without anyone interrupting to request that I read him or her "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" for the 382nd time, or "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom" for the 248th, or anything by Dr. Seuss for the gazoomillibillionth time.

I don't have to share the sofa, or my bed, or my favorite armchair. I don't have to share my dinner, or my dessert, or my Kindle Fire, or my computer. I don't have to share the TV. I don't have to share my time.

Now don't get me wrong; most of the time, I'm more than happy to share. I willingly forego those last few bites of steak for my filet mignon-loving son. I don't mind letting my daughter have the whipped cream from my mug of hot chocolate. I'm happy to give them a turn with my electronics. I'll let them choose the TV show or movie they'd prefer to watch.

Sometimes.

But every now and then, I like having everything to myself. So if you'll excuse me, there's something I need to do right now. And I'm not sharing.

Photo a Day: Partial, Me Time, Stairs, Begins with M

Oops, I seem to have gotten quite behind on my Photo A Day-ing. So although the official topics I've missed are Partial, Me Time, Stairs, and Begins with M, I'm going to tie them all together with a single theme: My backyard.

My backyard is mostly filled with an inground pool. However, I do have a small herb garden and a strip of flowerbed, and a porch overlooking the yard. Right now, the only flowers blooming are the impatiens I planted in May, and a few blossoms on my lilies, which are loaded with fat buds just waiting to explode. This lily is my subject for "Partial".

Even though only four buds have opened, it's glorious already. I can't wait until the other 20 (yes, 20 - I counted) blossoms open. This plant makes me happy, even when it's only partway to its glory. 

The next subject was "Me Time." I love evenings by the pool with my husband, watching the setting sun (or the tiki torches) glittering on the silent water. But when it's just me, I love the backyard in the sunshine of early morning. I often spot bunnies having their breakfasts in the grass, chipmunks chasing each other in the bushes, and birds of all kinds fluttering around the feeder. The sun sparkles on the water of the pool and the dew on the greens in the garden. The neighborhood is quiet, with only the occasional whoosh of a passing car or a distant voice interrupting the sounds of nature - birds chirping, a breeze shuffling the trees, the murmur of water. It is wonderfully calming Me Time. 

My home is full of stairs. Concrete stairs with iron railings leading up to the front door, inside wooden stairs going from the main floor up to the bedrooms and down to the basement, a short step leading out the back door. But the stairs with the most personality are the ones leading up to the porch. Once painted green, they have aged and weathered into something from a Wyeth painting. There's something very comforting and serene about their shabbiness, like a threadbare coat you can't bring yourself to throw away or a stuffed animal that's been loved out of its fur or a beloved book whose pages are yellowed and falling out. They're homely in both sense of the word.

And finally, my subject that "Begins with M" is mint. I originally planted it in my fledgling herb garden three or four years ago, and - as mint is wont to do - it has wandered all over the garden. I've torn it out in a few spots where it's begun to crowd out other plants, I've pulled up large chunks to give away to friends, I've hacked it back and stripped its leaves to use them in lemonade, iced tea, and mint juleps. But it still survives and thrives. It's my only herb that successfully overwinters in spite of my neglect. It's a tenacious little thing. I admire that.

And lest anyone worry that I'll get behind on my Photo A Day posting again, I can assure you that I will have no difficulty in finding tomorrow's subject: it's "pile."