a typical Saturday, sort of

Today is ending like most other days of late.  The girls are sleeping.  Jill is reading a book, and I'm typing up this post.  It's very quiet and peaceful.  

The day started similarly.  I woke up before everyone, checked the radar, and decided to get a bike ride started before the rain set in.  I rode to St. Joseph (does anyone know if the Mediterranean restaurant there is good?) and got wet on the way back.  I came home just in time to eat Jill's french toast with the family.

We took the kids to the library for some play time, then ate lunch at Crane Alley.  I get a flat on the way home, but the leak is slow enough to get home.

Then we helped a friend move her stuff into our garage.  More on this below.

Jill cooked a quiche for dinner.  Jill was holding Janny and enjoying her first bite of quiche when Janny threw up all over both of them.  Bath time!  Then back to dinner.

Play time with our tent and tube.  Jill can squeeze through the tube; I get stuck.

Janny goes to bed.

Paint.  Is someone getting sleepy?

Talk to grandma and grandpa on the phone.
Clara to bed.
Chad patches inner tubes.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Our friend's story starts with a broken closet door and today has reached this stage.  The story should have ended with someone (either her or the owner) spending the $40 to replace it.  That's not how it went and the ending is still way up in the air because the Section 8 housing authority, lawyers/judges, and egos were all involved.  Some possible outcomes are very scary.

Last night, we called a friend from church to get some advice about how to help our friend.  Once we decided to move her stuff to our garage, Nancy made a few calls, and 7 people, including one with a large pickup, agreed to help.  Say what you will about evangelicals having puzzling political views, but when help is needed, we help.  Only one of the 7 had ever met our friend, who has been to our church twice.