It's no secret that I have trouble with the calendar: days of the week, holidays (still waiting for Christmas), birthdays, etc. The problem is evidently infectious because even my cellphone isn't really sure of the date or time in the morning. It's slower to wake up than I. I know this when the clock tells me 4:30 a.m. and the phone says it's 11:30 p.m. from the night before. Like me, it waits until the coffee is made to catch up. The working world happily anticipates the weekend. Goats are a seven-day-a-week job and "weekend" is not in our vocabulary. If the landline phone rings before 6 a.m., I know before I pick up that it must be Saturday or possibly Sunday. Better yet, since it is not a "normal" visiting time, I know who it is. Unlike any phone call after 8 p.m., this is not an emergency. (My family knows that if they call after 8, they'd better be bleeding!) Deb and Craig work goofy hours and get up around the same time as I. Deb can't break the habit. Craig sleeps in on days off, so Deb sometimes calls to chat in the wee hours of the morning while he snoozes. It's becoming a ritual, one I look forward to and so enjoy. Mother-daughter time is precious. I won't get a call this weekend but I'm not sad because, be still my heart, Deb and Craig are coming up on Sunday! Craig is one of my bonus boys like Clay, and this week is a Son Bonanza. Did I mention that I'd lost my bet with Deb, Craig, and Clay on the Super Bowl? The lengths some people will go to collect their nickel winnings.
Okay. This is Friday, tomorrow is Saturday, and then comes Sunday. Yay! Got it!!