Each Day Has It

     It's Wednesday.  Hump Day if you follow the camel, Whacky Wednesday, if you read my blog.  It's also SIP day.  That stands for school improvement day.  

     School improvement day always falls on a Wednesday.  I don't know what takes place in school on this particular day, but school will dismiss at 12:15.  This day was in practice when we owned the buses.  We asked one time, why not have this day on a Friday, instead of in the middle of the week.   The answer we got was that it was hard enough to keep the teachers around on a Wednesday afternoon, a Friday afternoon would be nearly impossible.  Like I said, I have no idea what goes on during SIP day.  

     Thinking about when we owned the buses made something come to mind.  When we owned them we paid for every drop of the fuel it took to run them up and down the road.  It seems there are some who would beg to differ that information.  Stop by, I've got all the proof and I would be more than happy to show it to you.

     Anyway, I may not know exactly what a SIP day means for the school, but I do know what it means to me.  Ms. Sassafrass will not go to school today and her brother, the Aceman, will be here this afternoon.  Therefore, I will not get much accomplished in the way of what is on my list of things to accomplish.

     That's OK.  Yesterday was a good day, a busy day and I accomplished everything on my to-do list.  The weather for today is going to be fantastic with a high of nearly 70 degrees.  It will be a good day to get the kids outdoors and make some new discoveries.

     When I let the cats out of the garage this morning, I discovered they are not so different from us humans.  Tigger is not even a year old.  He bounds out the door and then stops.  He listens for every little sound.  He sees all the birds eagerly gleaning the grass in the neighbor's yard.  He chases ten leaves that skitter in the light wind before he has traveled ten feet.  He finally makes it to the deck, only to retrace his steps and begin the entire process over again.

     Pussy Cat, who, after some recent calculations is nearly 17 years old, heads straight for the food dish.  She doesn't hear the sounds because she has lost that sense.  She doesn't give a mouse's tail about the birds and chasing leaves is simply out of the question. She's getting frail and for an outdoor cat, she's way past the average life span.  I don't know if she will make it through the rest of this year.

     Today I will be like Tigger.  I will try my best to see the newness each day brings through the eyes of two small children.  I might not chase leaves or try to catch a bird, but then again, maybe I will.