The To Do List

When I was a kid, we spent every Sunday afternoon at my grandmother's house.  Sunday had to be a day of rest.  We were too full of fried chicken, stewed potatoes, pinto beans, mac and cheese (the real deal), corn bread, sweet tea, and some decadent dessert to do anything but rest.


These days Sunday afternoons are about catching up, crossing off, and bracing ourselves for the long week ahead.  We do go to church most Sunday mornings, so this tradition is preserved at least.  But the rest of the day is spent doing too much, moving too fast, and not resting at all.


Here's what we've "accomplished" so far:

Daughters' fish bowls cleaned.  Check.

 New Ballard Design antler thingy hung.  Check.  I do love him!

New lamp added to master bedroom bureau.  Check.  No more spending for a while.  Hubby gets nervous when too many brown boxes are waiting by the door.

Powder room faucet cleared of all sediment.  Yuck.  And check.

Youngest daughter pitched in.  She cleaned her room and…

tidied up the American Girl doll situation.  


She also took it upon her ten year old self to reorganize the bathroom cabinet.

A chip off the ole block.

We had just enough snow last night for a few rounds of sledding.  Cleaning up this mess will be an addition to the check list.

Middle daughter will return from her friend's house to find Mr. Dyson waiting for her:-)  I'm sure she'll be thrilled.


Youngest daughter and I made these.

We're still waiting for the dough to chill so we can roll these babies out, bake 'em, and ice 'em.  Heart-shaped, of course.

Puppies have rested for sure.  They got their shots yesterday.  


In addition, I scrubbed this…

And this…

And this…

Toilets and floors and sinks, too, but I'll spare you the details.

In a few minutes, I'm gonna call it quits.  We'll have grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner (from a can—sorry, Grandmother!).  Tonight I'm gonna sit in front of a fire and watch the Grammy Awards.  Probably get a little misty-eyed at whatever last-minute Whitney Houston tribute they've managed to arrange.  

When I stop and think about it, my grandmother didn't get much Sunday rest, either.  After all, she was the one preparing that gorgeous meal.  Maybe the rest part isn't as important as the together part.  

Somewhere today there is a little girl grieving the loss of her beautiful, talented mother.  And all those seemingly trivial things on the to-do list are done forever now.   

RIP, Whitney.  God bless her little girl and those who loved her truly.

""/>