Another late night. I couldn't fall asleep until 4 am. It seems that bronchitis has hit both my husband and me at the same time. Fortunately, he sleeps when he isn't feeling well. Unfortunately, I have a terrible time falling asleep when I fear that every breath may be my last. So, I gave myself a breathing treatment around 2 am. Then I waited for that 'hyper' feeling to subside. After an hour, I took my sleep-inducing meds, hooked myself up to my oxygen machine, and I slid into bed. Since I had no plans for the next day, I decided I'd sleep until noon, at the earliest. Drifting off took much longer than I had anticipated; the last time I looked at the alarm clock, it read 3:45.
Before going to bed, I had watched a segment of House Hunters in which a young Irish man had decided to move to Bulgaria to live with his girlfriend who was in college there. In the end, he not only was able to find a suitable lodging for the two of them, but he also opened his own Irish Pub. I love Irish people! I love their country, their spirit, their rugged good looks and their wonderful soft accents. I am noting this because it is the only possible explanation as to why I dreamt that I was Irish. True, there is a certain amount of Irish blood that runs through my veins. My maternal grandmother was often referred to as "very Irish looking", and I have often been told that I resemble my grandmother. But, in me dream I was Maureen O'Hara in 'The Quiet Man'! I had a lovely little cottage with beautiful flower gardens surrounding it, a cow, some sheep, and of course, a herding dog. My hair was bright auburn and flowing freely around my face. I was so happy in Ireland!
Someone was playing music. It wasn't Irish music, either. It was annoyingly familiar, too. It was...my cell phone! I awaken and snatch it off my night stand. It is 10 am. "Hello." I sound neither Irish nor nice. My daughter is at the other end of the line. "Your grandchildren, all three of them, want to come visit their grandparents!" "When?" I am trying to pull myself up in the bed. "How about in forty minutes?" I am now fully awake. "You have Sam and Zoey, too?" "They stayed all night. They've been up for hours." I am excited to see the three of them together because that doesn't happen very often anymore. They are all busy with one activity or another. "OK, honey; see you then!"
I shake my husband until he grumbles at me to leave him alone. I tell him that the kids are coming over to see us. Suddenly he is awake and out of bed! As I shower, he runs the sweeper to eliminate as much dog and cat hair as possible, on such short notice. I'm brushing my teeth when I hear The Unholy Trinity burst through the front door. "PawPaw!" "Hi Poppy!" they shout. "Where's Mom?" My daughter sounds exhausted. I walk into utter chaos. What a wonderful and heart-warming site! Unexpectedly, Sam is the first to approach me. He wraps his arms around me and shyly gives me a soft kiss. In four months he'll turn nine. He is entering that stage where public displays of affection aren't cool. Well, I'll take them while the taking is good! "MawMaw!!" Quin flies into the room, and me, followed closely by Zoey. Hugs and kisses all around, then they're off again.
Lee is in the floor, on his hands and knees, playing the role of the bucking bronco. Then, when the bucking bronco runs out of steam, the party moves to the backyard. Our Yellow Lab is in heaven! She loves the little ones and they adore her. Frisbees, kids and the dog are flying around the yard! I watch them while I make three 'snack packs' for them to enjoy after they go home. Truly, my cup runneth over with love!
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