Saturday night we saw Murgatroyd dance at Kingsbury Hall. She is strong and graceful and you can identify her from the other brunettes with the knotted buns on their heads by her smile. Her friend, Abby told me this. "She's the one who smiles," she said from the seat next to me when I couldn't find her. Yes.
We went to Crown Burger afterwards. I told Erica I needed a life coach and she was it. She laughed me off, but I persevered. "Okay," she said. "You just need to get up and come to breakfast at my house this summer. Nine o' clock. This was a rule she had made for Murgatroyd and Maxwell over summer vacation. They were to be seated at breakfast together each morning at nine.
I am just an old teenager, who needs a reason to get up. We've done this two days in a row and I have to say it makes my day sparkle. Erica smiles and chortles, "Good Morning! and we wait five minutes for the two teens to slog their way downstairs. Even the evervescent Murgatroyd is a bit subdued in the morning. Maxwell grunts at us. He's fifteen.
We tell each other what we're doing the rest of the day. The children are not thrilled that they are digging up part of the garden that morning, but they are tractable.
Tom tells stories of working in the garden as a teenager and how he pitted his mother against his father.
We are out of there by ten.
Tomorrow, we have breakfast at our house.
Summer, 2015, is already magical. Do I know how to pick life coaches or what?