I’ve been lazy here.  Had loved posting every day, but then got lazy and haven’t posted for a week.  It’s so easy to fall back into the old patterns, no?  So in this last week which has found me ribbing a friend (you know who you are) who deals with spills with this saying, “Now it can be a good day!” because, really, if one spill makes a good day, then does three spills make a really good day or a crappy one.  And what if one of those spills is milk, the mother of all spills?  And what if it soaks into the placemats and runs in the cracks of the bead board on the island?  Still a good day?
And in this week of playing basketball outside in the sunshine with my son and going for runs with Tess on her bike, flying past me as we whiz toward the park.  And in this week of wishing for snow, a really good piling on of it that forces us to stay home for twelve days, which is no big deal because I’ve just been to Costco and the library and everyone’s warm nummies are washed and ready.  In this week I am thankful for a hundred and seventy two things.  At least.  Like a friend coming to make quinoa patties this morning and another letting me tag along for shoe shopping and even treating me to Chipotle afterward while we talked about stuff far too serious for a sunny day, but so good, so good anyway.  And like a sister who texts and encourages and asks for prayer, which I love and a boy who was “sick” today and so helped me dig out Lucy’s closet and discover that she is all set for spring just on hand-me-downs and who agreed not to laugh when she chose to while the day away wearing a bathing suit too big and boots too small.  And a husband who is valiant over his demons in Jesus name and the grace to celebrate that with him.  And one hundred and sixty seven more.  I am thankful.
This is me being real.  And getting back on the horse tomorrow.

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