Like People Do

So today we were normal

Some of you may remember back when the Linguinis were always normal. But we haven't been normal for a very long time.

The term "normal," of course, if very subjective. Our seat-of-the-pants existence may have be considered normal in some circles; but I confess -- I'm rather pedantic in what I look for in life. I want a distinct lack of drama, pleasant, uneventful conversation and dinner at dinner time sitting at a table with the fork on the left and the knife and spoon on the right.

So that was today.

Normal.

No baking in a hot kitchen to the point of exhaustion and falling into bed, only to writhe around in pain because I hadn't realized I'd been standing for nine straight hours without a break; no overly-ambitious plans to bake a week's worth of pastries in one Sunday afternoon. I did a modicum of cafe baking, marinated a chicken, threw together a salad and then...

...then...

then...

I sat on my front porch and read.

Oh, yes I did. Even though there were clamberings for orange scones at the cafe, I sat on my porch and read a P.D. James novel and waved to people who drove by.

Then I cooked and dinner and me, Dirtman and Heir 1 sat at a table together and, for the first time in several months, ate a meal together.

And now that Dirtman has put fresh sheets on the bed, I'm going to crawl in and read some more!

That's right. I'm not going to bake or even think about making soup or pricing out the breakfast menu. I'm going to read...and I might even doze off.

Yeah, I know. Since I'm making such a big deal about all this, it's obviously not normal. True that.

However, I can't help thinking back fondly of the days when the Heirs got home-cooked meals all the time and they complained about not being able to eat fast food like all their friends; or when baking scones was such an infrequent treat, I needed a recipe and they never hung around long enough to have to be stored in Ziplocs (these days, I can't give away the rejects -- we're all so sick of looking at, taste-tesing and smelling fresh-baked scones; you think this time will never come but, believe me, it does...).

I'm not complaining...I am honestly so grateful the cafe is taking off and I absolutely love this work more than anything I've ever done.

I am also grateful, though, that we're finally settling in and finding our rhythm; so much so that on this one warm Sunday afternoon I can take off my cafe hat for a little while and just be a normal schmo relaxing up for the week ahead.

...like people do.