Monday Monday

Today I got up late, though it felt like early (darn time change).  Shortly after 8.  I hurriedly got dressed, grabbed a different skirt that needed washed, and went downstairs to straighten up, make breakfast, and ready for the arrival of a gal to sew up my couch tear (no, I"m not fancy enough to hire upholsteres, but I did make a claim on my 'furniture protection plan' when a cushion began to separate at the seam).  The girls slept until nearly 9:30 (blessed time change) after a late-ish night with the in-laws last night, and they ate their oatmeal and got back into yesterday's church clothes.

After the couch-sewing-lady left, I brushed hair, hollered about shoes and coats, and eventually we all made it into the car.  Not before Little Artist stepped in a big pile of chicken poop, and Big Sister couldn't find her other shoe though.  My best-laid-plans were turning into 'late-arriving-at-the-funeral' and I wasn't really excited about that.  It was a 40 minute drive, and my clock already said 10:22.

I zoomed across the potholes in the driveway, and got on the road, finally.  There's a section of road that dips into a low canyon, and then winds up "the grade" to the other side.  I dropped it into fourth gear and made good time up the hill.  The cop coming down the hill was making good time, too, as was his radar, apparently, because just after I passed him, he hit his brakes, turned on some pretty lights, and did a u-ey.  Argh.  I instructed the girls to stay quiet and buckled as the officer approached the driver's side with his hand on his gun (I just love guns).  I carefully kept both hands in full view on the steering wheel, until reaching to lower my window.

"I pulled you over because of your speed," he said.

"Yeah, I was coming up the grade pretty quickly," I said, or something like that.

"You were going 12 over.  Can I get you to hold your speed down for me?"

"Absolutely.  Is it 50 or 60 coming up here?"

"50."

"Ah, yeah.  Oops."

"Have a nice day, just keep it down."

Well, certainly!  He didn't ask for my license, registration, or anything.  I am so grateful that it didn't take longer than about a minute for the entire 'pull over' routine.  Ticket or no, I REALLY didn't want to walk in with 3 kids LATE for a funeral.  We moms (ok, well, *I*) so often look harried and hurried to the world, and I hate that.

The funeral was nice, if you can say that about funerals.  It was the first traditional, open-casket type service I've been to since my great-grandma died when I was 8.  Everyone since then has been cremated.  The service was handled mostly by the deceased's sons, who were so sincere and obviously put a lot of thought into the kind of service that would honor their dad.  The girls did fairly well, though I had to take Organique out a few times.  Right as it was ending, so was the grace for keeping kiddos (well, that one, anyway) in line, and we left before the reception began (much to Big Sister's dismay!).  It's amazing how difficult it is to keep an 18-month-old acting rightly with only 2 arms!  Times like this definitely require Daddy Help.  I remember why I don't go to church without him, ever!

After we returned home, we had lunch, did some schoolwork, and I managed to not only vacuum the living room, but also mop the kitchen, dining, hall/laundry as well.  THAT is truly amazing, in this house, for a single day.  The sheets are washed (but not back on the bed yet) and I'm praying my back/hip improve enough to go back down and make dinner for the Hubby!  I'm *really* looking forward to his being able to reintroduce some of the foodstuffs he's had to avoid for so long (tomatoes and potatoes, to start!).  He has a dr. appointment tomorrow, so hopefully that will give us the go-ahead...