recalculating

So many of my journal entries over the years begin with:
Monday, [month, date, year]
The bread is rising, the kitchen is clean, and I am sitting in the
[living room, kitchen, back yard]
watching
[the snow come down, the birds flying through the yard, the peonies falling with the weight of rampant blooms, the boys jumping on the trampoline,] ... 
Then come variations of prayers and processing, scriptures and sayings,
and records of the moments of life in this place.

The Monday journal entries happened as my children grew.
Mondays saw them off to school, and I reclaimed physical, mental and spiritual space.
Monday journal entries continued as children's ministries at West Portal gave me Monday space to recover and renew, to reflect and reorient myself. 

But this new phase of life is out of sync with quiet Mondays. 
Today is Saturday.  Bread is baking, kitchen and bathrooms are cleaned but the house is full. 
It's a good full, but Saturdays ask different things of life than Mondays do. 
Saturdays ask for lawns to be mowed, and projects to be completed. 
Mondays at Bethany have been teaching days, so Sunday final prep leads to Monday mad dashes.

It's been more than a year of busy Mondays.  I like to think that I am not a creature of habit, but it seems that I may perhaps be mistaken. 

As my sister's GPS often told me, while navigating construction and highways on unknown Dallas territory: "Recalculating".