It’s pouring outside and 48 degrees. Really, weather only a duck would love.
Inside, it’s dry. I’m in my fleece, hat, boots and jeans. And foundation garments. I’m a Bethany grad, after all. The heat is on…but I’m chilly. Such is life in the Pacific Northwest. The damp, you know. I’m sipping on another cup of Jonathon’s finest, spiked with chocolate sauce. It’s twilight at 10:30 a.m. The gas fireplace blazes behind me.
Here are a few reasons to celebrate. Or in the spirit of nearly-Thanksgiving, to be grateful for:
I’m done with my chores for the week.
I applied for a part-time job with Habitat for Humanity. Kinda excited about the possibility. Thanks, Zee!
Zac informed me about some required reading. He read it to me, a story called “The Egg”. The story depicts a man who dies in a car accident and what he discovers in the afterlife. Funny stuff. Turns out it was the wrong story. His English teacher assigned a story about a mother, father and a little girl raising chickens. The assigned story is also entitled “The Egg”. Yeah. Not the same. But hey, extra credit, right? I’m just glad he’s reading.
“You’re my favorite person,” Ruby told me yesterday, while hugging my midsection. My heart melted.
Jonathon’s out scouting my Christmas present *as I write this*. Huzzah!
Tonight, we’ll be attending a progressive dinner. We’ll finally, finally get to know our elusive neighbors. It’s only taken 8 years.
I’m down half a pound.