If you want a fun activity to make time go really fast then visit Austin's blog. He has this movie link-six degrees-thingy going that is a bit of a blast. In fact it kept me from my own blogging this morning. It also kept me from making Sam's lunch and getting him on the bus by 830, but totally worth it.

Nice day FINALLY. Jay is playing golf after work (trying hard not to be bitter here) so it is a good day for it. Monty fell asleep on the couch, he exhausted himself playing with his 'guys' (a little spidey in a car and a long piece of lego that I think was some kind of stick space man) and now it is lovely and peaceful in here, the breezeroo going from the front screen through to the kitchen window. Ahhh.

Of course, the piles are bugging me. The piles are the bane of my existence. (Please know immediately that I am not referring to hemorrhoids here!) I mean the piles of clothes that have to be put away, the piles of books that I have no more room on my shelves for, the piles of papers that I can't bear to go through, the piles of dishes beside the sink, the piles of toys in each and every corner of this house. The piles of ebay items that are to be listed. I don't need a maid. I need a pile-driver. A pile-dealer. I need to get out of here.

This weather always reminds me of high school, when those first warm days finally kicked in and all the girls changed from wool Bonnie Doon tights to knee socks with our kilts. And we would sit in the courtyard at lunch, sunning our knees, school cardigans thrown on the ground beside us, sharing a bag of barbecue ringolos while we skipped 5th period English. Fun.

When I was younger, like eight or ten, our house had tons of red and yellow tulips on one side of the porch. And I would spend time with those tulips, running my fingers along the dusky green leaves, looking into the middle of the flowers close enough to see the fine dust on the black pieces inside them, holding the flower in my hand and squeezing a little, enough to make the petals meet each other in the centre.

And spring meant that after a long winter of disinterest, you felt like having a slurpee again. And that when I looked in the bathroom mirror at night after playing outside for hours, my dirty face would have a few new freckles. And that awesome smell combination of barbecuing and cut grass and warm earth would meet you as you walked home from a friend's house after school.

Now, grown up with my own kids who stare for ten minutes at the footprint they make when they have a muddy shoe, I am filled with memory. And spring still has it's wonder.

And the reverie is over. Monty woke up. Toodles.