This morning I got up before seven so that I could make pancakes. Something about pancakes always fills my day with sunshine. So I did, and then when we were glutted with sweet gluteny love, I got dressed & took Blake to the supermarket. The Boy had been shopping yesterday, but there's a superior calibre of lunch meat to be found at a market farther away, so I went out in search of deli for lunches this coming week. As I wheeled around with a grumpy, snotty Blake, I noticed that most of my fellow patrons seemed to be wearing the shirts they slept in. I shouldn't complain; I should feel lucky that so many people remembered to wear pants. I am so overdressed, I thought.
After church, Blake & I got on our bike and headed over to the 6th anniversary celebration of our next-door neighbour's tabernacle. This was completely new to me, but it seemed like the kind of risk that it would be good for me to take. The Boy stayed home, felled by some weird creeping crud, but I was wearing a swingy skirt and my motorcycle boots and feeling good. When we walked in, I realized that I was one of the only people not wearing traditional African dress. All around me, women in dazzling robes were adorned with fantastic fabric origami crowns. I am so underdressed, I thought.
Other excellent things about today in no particular order:
The quality of afternoon sunlight when I'm hanging up clothes. Blake falling asleep on my lap as I knit. Lying on the uncomfortable hardwood floor with Blake before church and listening intently to the first 5 songs off the B-52's album. Riding my bike in motorcycle boots and a swingy skirt, with Blake in the front wearing a hockey helmet. The Boy holding my hand in church. Fresh bagels for lunch. A nap in the sun.
This is what keeps me going: the fact that there are such beautiful, glowing patches of happiness in my life.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*