The everyday, mundane things are special to me.  Sometimes I hesitate to write about them, as if I have to write to entertain others and of course, these simple things would not be entertaining.  But I do write about them because to me it is a miracle that I can see the ordinary, hear voices that are dear to me, organize thoughts, feel gratitude, and appreciation welling up inside, and write.  That these marks on paper can mean anything is a miracle.  We are so marvelously made. 

My Mom’s freezer is full of cookies for the Thanksgiving holiday.

The property tax bills just came, but we have escrow accounts!  What a relief.

My client graduated to rehab and is doing very well.

My car is clean inside and out (for a change).

I’m going to get rid of the bougainvillea bush that never looks beautiful and tries to stab me every time i come near.  Gonna cut the thing down.

I don’t have to cook, there are leftovers, good ones.

It is not snowing here. It is beautiful here. It will be snowing in Wisconsin when we go for Thanksgiving. It will be beautiful there too.

For some reason I feel relaxed and not stressed out. I’m not going to question it.

I’m not in charge of anything (but I have plenty to do).

So good to get a phone call from a voice I know and love. I don’t want to forget how my people sound.

At it’s low November position, the sun lights things up like no other time of year. Love, love, love to look.