We have been offline for a number of days due to something wrong with an internal gadget in our PC that determines our IP address on both of our computers. We sent it to the Geek Squad and they did their magic, but it took a little longer than they expected.
Rose came home Thursday. Already she babysat twice, bless her heart. Twice, she has made supper and has dressed the kids for bed. If she were any less accomodating and agreeable, I would feel guilty. But I don't because she thinks it's fun. So she can have her fun and I'll get a break, for crying out loud.
She has told me some wonderful, exciting, and tremendously funny stories of her trip. One of her assignments for next week is to post her journal on her blog. I'll link to it once I make sure her spelling is appropriate for public consumption.
One story she told me tonight, which she probably wouldn't tell anyone because it makes her out to be a wonderful person, follows. They were at the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace. Everyone knows the stoic demeanor of the guards, and how everyone wants to get their picture taken with one of them. My mother, sometimes guilty of socially awkward turns-of-phrase, said to Rose (within earshot of two of the guards), "Do you want to get your picture taken with the short, fat one or the cutey patooty?" (yes, she said that). Rose replied, "I'll get my picture taken with the cutey patooty." Then she calmly went and stood next to the guard my mother referred to as the "short, fat one" for her picture.
While Rose and the boys were gone I was able to take the girls bike-riding. We went to a park that had some small inclines, so I could teach them how to "stand on their pedals" to get the power they need to go up hills. After that plan failed, we went to the Riverwalk along the canal, which is ridiculously flat and physically unchallenging. But we saw about six great blue herons within feet of us, and the scenery and the weather were very pleasant.
We also painted Rose's room together, as well as the foyer, the hall, and the kitchen. We read Black Beauty and occasionally did schoolwork. It is this kind of season when we tend to skip school because the days are so pretty.
Last night the prosphora sisters went to Ruta's house to bake. Ruta made us a very nice dinner. Danielle & I both arrived with a double recipe of prosphora ready to be molded, so it didn't take long for five of us to finish the work. The baking took a while, of course. And we lost a batch of the small loaves because I kept turning the oven's heat up and down, fearing it wasn't heating properly. If I had been baking alone, I would have cussed. Then I would have felt guilty not only for burning the prosphora but for cussing about it too. But because it was shared, the frustration was lessened.