Jumping in where we left off

 When I don't know where to start I just jump in. 

Yesterday in the shower I had that sort of thought that starts a writer down a leafy path of light and shadowy ideas. Determined to remember, I rinsed and dried and turned the idea over looking for its brightest reflection. Then, someone needed cookie dough and whatever was on my mind whirled away with each rotation of the mixer. It happens.

This month we celebrated the new year. We celebrated Laura's fifth birthday. We celebrated the arrival of seed catalogs and the installation of the children’s bathroom floor. That’s Laura with the cutting implement to trim the black-and-white vinyl. Grandpa lets her do the most amazing things.

I am scheming and plotting for the day when my bathroom is then all mine. A-hem.

   

If you had a daughter like Laura, a son like Salvador, and maybe you do, you’d know that moments of consideration, minutes devoted to development of an idea are precious.
I should spend more time in the shower.

This morning Madeleine is out mucking stalls because (drum roll) it is not raining. When it is raining, and it has been often, the horses are in the stalls and don’t appreciate being kicked out for a thing like a wheelbarrow.

Two Spot had a bad limp on Tuesday. I noticed him in the pasture as we were driving to tap class in the afternoon and then of course I couldn’t breathe for the entire drive-drop-off-turn-around segment of the afternoon.

While the girls were dancing I went out in the pasture to where he whinnied for me, his pony mares already running in for a treat. He stood still and called to me.My breathing was hardly better. This gentlemen Arab, this painted horse of mine, he is more than a horse, more than a friend, and I. Am. Not. Ready.

So I trekked nearly to the pond and fought the ponies for the carrots in my pocket and prayed that he whose registered name is “Colorful Gentleman” (who does that?) was just playing possum at the far end of the property.

To save you the suspense I’ll say that there are no cuts, no infections, just a bruised hoof likely from overconfidently descending the stony hillside. He is already much better. Pretty sure it was the carrots.

So this morning Madeleine is cleaning stalls for the arrival of two new friends for our herd. Even though it is a puppy I crave, these Morgans coming to live here will be good medicine for Two Spot and me, because change is a good thing. Or so I keep hearing.

In renovation news: The kids’ bathroom has framed walls, installed flooring, sink, cabinets and toilet. The tub would be in and the walls finished if I could make up my mind about the tub. Pesky decision-making gets in the way of, well, a lot of things.

We have a whirlpool tub/shower combination in my bathroom, a stand-alone shower in the second bathroom. I want a simple soaking tub for the children’s bathroom but the previous owner left us a brand new, expensive whirlpool tub – not the choice I’d make for my preschool and toddler children. I have two cast iron clawfoot tubs (because I’m a hoarder?) but they cannot be installed upstairs in this farmhouse so they languish for the day I tear out the whirlpool tub in my bathroom (what do I have against these poor tubs?).

So I went on the hunt for a simple soaking tub and then decided that a tub is not worth a mortgage payment.

And the bathroom is unfinished. But since I do my best thinking in the shower, and that shower/tub is currently shared with Mr. Suite and our five children (the other shower is Grandpa’s), you’d think I would get with it.

You’d think.

But most days I just jump in where I am.