365 Days

Jeremy & I met a year ago today! ♥

Daisy snuggles.

I got to snuggle my baby girl on Sunday while J and I were at my parents' house. I miss her company so much, especially when J's at work and I have the house to myself. If I didn't think it would wreak havoc on both her nerves and J's allergies, I'd have taken her with me when I moved.  Allergy medication would probably solve the latter, but she is getting so old I wouldn't chance the toll it might take on her poor little nerves.  She's lived in that house for the entirety of her life; any kind of major change now would probably only unnecessarily stress her.

She politely waited for me to finish eating (she's seriously the nicest cat ever -- she's never bitten anyone, scratched anyone, begged for our "people" food, climbed onto surfaces where she shouldn't be ... I've never seen another cat as sweet-mannered) and then hopped onto my lap, rested her chin on my arm, and stayed there for over an hour, purring happily the whole time.

She'll be fourteen on Halloween. I love her. ♥

Animal Crossing...

...is still awesome, by the way. Especially the original. Bad puns abound!

J bought a Gamecube controller just so I could start a new game! I've been so excited and I've been fishing nonstop (well, whenever J isn't playing Grand Theft Auto IV).

Nerds. We are nerds. And we are in nerd love.

It's the best.

100 Things I Love (a work in progress)

I started this in one of my Listography journals and I haven't completed it (yet), but I wanted to share. It picks me up to add a couple of items when I'm feeling down. I've made a point of it not to include specific people (because then the list would never end, really), but moments and experiences instead.

What's something that you truly love? Are you an appreciator of the little things?

1.   realizing that "'til death do us part" isn't nearly long enough ♥
2.   words
3.   music
4.   real (not side) hugs
5.   the crinkly sound that paper makes when it has been written on on both sides
6.   coffee, and how I always think of Granny when I drink it (she thought it tasted like burned peanuts)
7.   the sound and smell of rain
8.   pens
9.   cats
10.   daisies
11.   the sounds of a southern summer
12.   quiet time
13.   people-watching
14.   aquariums
15.   unexpected kindnesses
16.   blank pages
17.   technology
18.   fitting perfectly against my husband when we're snuggled up
19.   autumn colors
20.   Diet Coke
21.   the silence that comes with a blanket of snow
22.   an arm-load of warm towels that just came out of the dryer
23.   the weeble-wobble of babies who have just learned to sit up
24.   the connected feeling you get when you're at a concert with hundred of other people who love the same band you do
25.   homecooked meals
26.   over-the-ear headphones
27.   goosebumps
28.   handmade gifts
29.   the smell of thrift stores and flea markets
30.   eyelashes
31.   pink-and-orange-and-sometimes-lavender-tinted sunsets
32.   the genuine enthusiasm of children
33.   being home for Christmas
34.   purses purses purses
35.   lightning bugs
36.   a new box of crayons
37.   a good cry
38.   skirts
39.   buying pretty make-up (and then never wearing it)
40.   handwriting
41.   doing the hand air-gliding swoosh swoosh up and down while in a car, with my window rolled down
42.   taking a good photo
43.   bats
44.   the soft hum of a box fan
45.   a comfortable silence
46.   starting up the car and hearing your favorite song on the radio, like a soundtrack is just waiting for your life adventure to happen
47.   popping bubblewrap
48.   the sound of the ocean
49.   getting surprise mail
50.   comfortable flip-flops
51.   french toast
52.   blanket forts
53.   sitting down at the end of a long work day
54.   stickers
55.   Burt's Bees lip balm
56.   fingernail polish
57.   naps
58.   purring
59.   trinkets that come with family stories
60.   the blast of the car air conditioner after a summer concert
61.   messenger bags
62.   hoodies

Days

by Billy Collins

Each one is a gift, no doubt,
mysteriously placed in your waking hand
or set upon your forehead
moments before you open your eyes.

Today begins cold and bright,
the ground heavy with snow
and the thick masonry of ice,
the sun glinting off the turrets of clouds.

Through the calm eye of the window
everything is in its place
but so precariously
this day might be resting somehow

on the one before it,
all the days of the past stacked high
like the impossible tower of dishes
entertainers used to build on stage.

No wonder you find yourself
perched on the top of a tall ladder
hoping to add one more.
Just another Wednesday

you whisper,
then holding your breath,
place this cup on yesterday's saucer
without the slightest clink.