Why Do I Do It?

You have asked why, when I am NOT a morning person, do I crawl out of my nice warm quilts and toasty house, don underwear, yesterday's jeans and sweat shirts, coats, scarfs, mittens, and walking shoes and head out to the park -- all before 7:30 a.m.?  Why on earth don't I stay in bed until the reasonable time of ten o'clock, leisurely arise, sip some hot tea, take a bath, wash my hair, brush my teeth, don CLEAN clothes, and then leash up the boys?

Gussie is content to lay abed until 10 or 11 a.m. and never make a peep about going out doors for a little releasing of the body's contents.  Luie, however, like his dad, is up and at 'em as soon as the sun hits the horizon.  He knows that new smells have accumulated in the front yard, the car has gas in it and is ready to be warmed up, and this bladder needs to be emptied very quickly, followed almost immediately by his bowels.  "Let's go!" he fumes as he paces up and down beside the bed while running to the front door to see if it has magically opened. 

Also Hubby is awake, the TV is on to the morning news shows, and my own bladder says, "You'd better put those toes on the floor and make progress to the room next door -- or you'll be sorrreeee."

Once my feet hit the floor, all pandemonium breaks loose.  Luie is at the front door, jumping up and down and if that doesn't get our attention, he splatters a few "yaps" between the leaping.  Gus raises his head off the pillows and decides now is the perfect time to wash the sheets, and his little pink tongue comes out and he begins circles of spit all over the foot of my quilt. 

Hubby may have been dozing during the news but once I hit the light switch to hook up my bra (front hooks and I have to see them to get then snapped up right), everybody but me is alert and ready for the day.

I don't talk until I'm actually fully dressed, the hair is minimally combed, the teeth have been brushed, and the tea kettle set to boil while I'm out dog walking.  At the door, I tell Luie "up" and he stands on my thighs so I can leash him properly (blind dogs don't walk off leash in an open park) and then both dogs have to stand behind me while I open the door.  (I"ve been faithfully watching the "Dog Whisperer" during my six months of retirement). 

Today we changed the routine a bit -- because on really good days, if I ask Hubby if he wants to drive me over to the park, he'll say, "Sure," and we all go to the car together.

Today Hubby is feeling pretty perky because we were both able to talk to each other, instead of riding in stone silence, while the dogs hang at the windows hoping to see / smell the parkland.  I was showing Hubby a darling little treat bag I had gotten at lunch yesterday (Wendy, act surprised -- I'm putting it in your sock for Christmas so you can see how cute the patterns are -- you are much more talented at this stuff than me) and he reminisced about his Christmases when he was a boy.  The cabinet holding tea plates and cups that we had seen in Annapolis during the High Tea celebration reminded him of the one his family had piled high with sweets:  cakes, cookies, pies, buns, and candy.  He enjoyed regaling me with the stories of delicious tea cakes and coconut cakes, as well as the sweet potato pies. 

The conversation, though short, was a happy one.  The car felt warm with the little odd stories that only a close family can share. Even when you've heard the stories many times, it's nice to remember once more the joys that these events brought to the person remembering.  These are the moments that make getting up at dawn worth it.