It’s an interesting Sunday. We pass through manicured lawns to remote coves. Talk about the Mayan prophesies of 2012 (kids at school are telling Jeb he’ll die in 3 months from a great flood).
Get home by 10:30 in time to go through a restore process on my iPhone while Jeb deals a game of Uno. It seems the magic carpet has now become host to family card games.
I’ve got a load of laundry in the washer and some dishes in the sink.
Jeb’s playing with our neighbor’s cat on the balcony, who has been dubbed “Agent 5” (a partner in some spy mission I am not privy to). Apparently, Agent 5 made a run for it, as Jeb describes some sort of typical, cat-like leap from great heights that landed Agent 5 deftly, but distant, from Jeb’s grasp.
iPhone says “sync is in progress” as Uno calls.
To be honest, I’m taking a look at that bottle of Patron and wondering if a weekend cocktail may be in my future.
It’s Sunday, 2011. Jeb’s seven, going on eight. We’re home with no big plan.
I try to soak in this day at 11:22am. Sync is complete. Daily Chronicle, chronicled.
Time, space and Mayan calendars. Laundry, Uno and Agent 5. These days will never come again.
Love, love, love it.