A day of happy things

A late start to my work day (7:45!) and the gift of cheesecake- for breakfast, of course.

This little guy in this adorable sweater. It was his dad's for goodness sake! I can't even stand the cuteness factor here.

This.

THIS! How did it even get to be this day before the day? Impossible.

My people.

Do you have any clue what kind of friendships get forged in my muddy mudroom? I sometimes get five years with the same woman bringing her child to my house. We do a lot of laughing and crying and friendship building in my porch. It's my favourite.

Speaking of friendship forged in my porch. Today I'm grateful for my friend who has offered to take my sweet Sam for a hotel night with tons of swimming so that I can worry about him a little less while we are away. Sam, swimming, with good people whom he loves. That's all good.

A work day with minimal crying, fighting, vexing, and pants pooping. Yes- pants got pooped, or more specifically, panties. But only once....

Our whole brood home for supper, plus a welcome surprise guest- my brother Al. He showed up to help me figure out whether I had turned off the correct things on my phone to avoid a nasty $6,000 MTS bill upon my return. We fed him tacos and scotch so that he would stick around for a while.

An early bedtime- because, good grief! It makes tomorrow come faster!

I know how annoying it is when people talk about their fancy pants, lazy, indulgent holidays. For the first 20 years of our marriage- TWENTY- we went nowhere, except through Lowe Farm on our way to yant zeed. So I feel your pain if you're in that place of life where the poopy pants are more of a 24 hour gig, and flying away on a jet plane is more than completely impossible.

But I'll manage my sorrow. I have packed five books, seven sundresses, three inappropriate swimsuits. I have filled the freezer with meat buns and pizzas, and there's plenty of rye bread and Nutella.

It's go time.

 

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