terrific thursday. totally!

When midnight comes, Thursday will be officially over. She sighes contentedly: today has been a terrific day from morning to night.


She finished her tasks and projects at work, and got to go home early. There was something exhilirating about leaving early, even though it was only thirty minutes. Still, when counted in seconds, that's 1,800 seconds, it sounded pretty thrilling.


There was a container of leftover potato salad in the refrigerator. That potato salad had chopped dill pickles and horseradish, giving it an element of tanginess with a zingy punch. She opened the refrigerator and looked for it. In the midst of fresh produce, bottled jams, and stacked containers, she found it behind the bag of four-times-rinsed spinach. Through the clear plastic box she could see there was still some potato salad left. There had been instances where empty containers were left inside the refrigerator, or with only a measly remaining spoonful of the dish. Such was not the case this time; she squealed with delight, I'm so lucky! She served herself a bowl of the precious potato, pickle, horseradish concoction. With each bite she took her stomach hummed happily: yum, yum, yummy!


In the afternoon she had highly enjoyable piano sessions. Playing the Counting Beat with Micah, and became a pair of Great Discoverers who searched for all the C notes in the whole entire piano. (Unfortunate for the C notes, the two black keys always gave away their positions!). She reminded Melanie that crescendo was like an open mouth, the notes got louder and louder. Diminuendo was like a closing mouth. The notes became softer and softer. While Rhea’s fingers raced each other across the keyboards in a Czerny’s piece, she tapped the piano to pace the speed. Rhea was like a bold racecar driver, she would increasingly go faster until the metronome went dizzy.


After the the last kid left, she hurried to the kitchen and started shaping the chocolate bread dough (she'd made earlier) into buns. Last night she promised her friend that she would make her chocolate buns. While the buns were rising, her son came to the kitchen to get a cup of water. He got excited when he saw the buns.
“Chocolate buns! Mmm. I haven't have them for a while!”
“Oh, sorry, but they’re for aunty Kira.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, afterall she has more kids than I do.”
Then her husband arrived home from work. Previous scene was replayed.
“Oh, you’re making us chocolate bread!”
“Not really. They’re for Kira.”
“All of them?”
“Yes .. and her family.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her, silently conveying the question: what about our family?
She put down the book she was reading, walked to the pantry to get the flour, “I guess I’ll make some for us right now.” From her voice she sounded quite surprised to be so energetic. Hmm … must be the powerful pickle-horseradish combo in the potato salad. It's still giving her zestful kicks.