Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I Feel Nice
. . .like sugar and spice
This song is stuck in my head at the moment, and the only reason I can think of for its entry is that I FEEL GOOD--I knew I would as soon as the sun came out again. I feel so good that I hammered the car (kids giggling inside) with as many snowballs as my bare hands could stand before driving off home from Sal's house through the sunshine today. In my refreshed state, I can muster some praise for snow: it's fun to throw and it is a wonderful catchment for light. I didn't need the lamp last night to find the bed after I finished flossing, and today the bits of sun that break through clouds illuminate the white yard. The birds are like confetti blowing in the warming air--dun and cherry red and licorice black.
Elspeth sits at my left, creating a picture of a cat chasing flying cupcakes; my charge E, is sound asleep on the couch, and Bea has curled around her three Lightning McQueen cars and fallen into sweet afternoon slumber (remember how deeply satisfying that was?). The water is hot for early afternoon tea and my column for the week is safely with my editor, the house is dirty and there's no dinner but all is well, all is well.
Speaking of columns (wait for it. . .here it comes. . .) I am particularly fond of my last column and would love for you all to take a peek; check it by clicking on the geranium to the right of this ramble.
This song is stuck in my head at the moment, and the only reason I can think of for its entry is that I FEEL GOOD--I knew I would as soon as the sun came out again. I feel so good that I hammered the car (kids giggling inside) with as many snowballs as my bare hands could stand before driving off home from Sal's house through the sunshine today. In my refreshed state, I can muster some praise for snow: it's fun to throw and it is a wonderful catchment for light. I didn't need the lamp last night to find the bed after I finished flossing, and today the bits of sun that break through clouds illuminate the white yard. The birds are like confetti blowing in the warming air--dun and cherry red and licorice black.
Elspeth sits at my left, creating a picture of a cat chasing flying cupcakes; my charge E, is sound asleep on the couch, and Bea has curled around her three Lightning McQueen cars and fallen into sweet afternoon slumber (remember how deeply satisfying that was?). The water is hot for early afternoon tea and my column for the week is safely with my editor, the house is dirty and there's no dinner but all is well, all is well.
Speaking of columns (wait for it. . .here it comes. . .) I am particularly fond of my last column and would love for you all to take a peek; check it by clicking on the geranium to the right of this ramble.
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