Not that anything spectacularly grandiose happened this weekend, and perhaps it was just me, but I loved it. We had a walk on freshly rained upon pavement, a bit of sleeping in, pumpkin pancakes, and local strawberries and cream.
Ryan stayed home from church with the sick stragglers, which I secretly love because he always makes dinner, too. [obviously not enjoyed to the same degree by others.]
He made a loaf of Jim Lahey's bread with kalamata olives [for me] and walnuts and we topped it off with some Plugra goodness, [we later revisited this snack in bed]
and some freshly squeezed clementine juice [from the clementines we picked earlier in the week.]
Of course there were complaints about pulp, soup, andandand, but I told Ryan it was my best meal ever.
He laughed and didn't believe me.
I've finally kicked my cold and feel I'm running at 96.5% now, which makes a difference.
I have vowed to declutter, organize, and take inventory of this household of mine.
The rest of the sickies are on the mend and will all be sent back to school so I can get to thinning out unneeded possessions.
And did you know, we discovered this one is no longer a baby. How sad is that? She's quite the engaging conversationalist. Just ask all the strangers she's not supposed to talk to.
I'm looking forward to our previously scheduled one on one time, because it's nice to be loved by such a body, stickiness and all.