What Did You Do for Mother's Day?

Here's what WE did:
Went to church.
Ate breakfast for lunch. (Even Marie's Scrambler was packed with a Mother's Day crowd. I sometimes cook for Mother's Day lunch to avoid the lines and the wait, but this weekend there just wasn't time to shop and prepare.)
Cleaned the garage amid a steady rain outside, which required moving stuff from one side of the garage to the other or taking the stuff outside to sit in the rain while we cleaned the inside.
Used the neighbor's power-washing machine to hose off the floor. ("Power" and "washing" are two words that, when put together make Evelyn weak in the knees.) The contraption made me weak in the arm. (I had forgotten that you have to turn the fuel knob from "off" to "on" before pulling the cord to get the motor running. I had worked up quite a sweat and stripped off my rain slicker before I read the fine print on the little sticker on the engine and remembered the neighbor had told me about the red knob.)
Batted at a small bird that had enough sense to fly into the garage out of the rain, but not enough sense to fly back out through the open garage door or windows we opened to entice him with the wet wonders of the great outdoors. It was a little entertaining to see him ride the chain on the electric garage door opener pulley from the front of the garage to the opener, the first couple of times he did it. We madly opened and shut the door hoping he'd get flustered enough to fly out. But he just perched on the garage door rigging or fluttered around at the white walls and ceiling or sat on the open garage door in the small space it created beneath the ceiling.
Left the garage door open, hoping he'd fly out.
Went to the grocery store to get tomato soup for supper and spaghetti sauce for Monday's dinner. Picked up some bird seed while I was there.
Put away groceries while Evelyn talked to Jennifer on the phone. Shut and opened garage door to see if bird was still there. He fluttered around the ceiling but didn't bother to ride the door-opener pulley.

Snapped these pictures of Mother's Day helium balloons
crowded at the ceiling above the floral department
at Kroger's. Even at 3:00 in in the afternoon, confused
fathers and grade school daughters were mulling through
a bounty of flowers (and balloons!) trying to redeem the
day. I didn't buy a flower or a balloon.

Rigged up the bird feeder on a shepherd's crook (usually used for a hanging basket) at the edge of the driveway straight in front of the open garage door. Figured our visitor must be getting tired and maybe a little hungry.
Heard Evelyn's report from her Internet research. "Just leave the garage door open for two or three hours. The bird doesn't want to be in the garage any more than you want him there." Didn't bother to ask how this web poster knows that.
Retreated to the inside in frustration. Tried to concentrate on the Christian Standard proof I was reading while wondering if we'd need to re-clean the garage floor after a nervous, frustrated bird had been roosting in the rafters for the whole afternoon.
Talked with Geoff on the phone.
Checked outside, after two or three hours. The bird had either left or found a place to hide from us overnight.
Did some Christian Standard editing with a clear mind.
Apologized to Evelyn for being grumpy much of the afternoon.
Made little crostini to eat with our tomato soup.
Enjoyed "Sixty Minutes," supper, and the knowledge that this is a Mother's Day we probably won't forget.