This book. Lost City Radio by Daniel Alarcon. Un-put-down-able, so far.
This cake. Frozen. For breakfast. Or really anytime. No, it's not homemade, but it's good. In its own way.
This tea, now available at my grocery store.
Valentine’s Day cards! What a cute idea! That sweetie pie is my nephew. He and Terzo are three months apart, and look like twins.
Post-It notes on my cabinets. Grocery list forgetfulness begone.
My new bathroom decorations. Brilliant, yes? I do wonder how old the boys will get before I am begged to take the photos down.
My second refrigerator. Running out of milk has become a thing of the past. Plus, you can fit a lot of coconut cake in the freezer.
Local politics. Specifically the city council race. If you live in District Seven, go vote for Patrick Dowd on May 15! He’s a good guy, and I promise you won’t regret it.
Fundraiser dumpsters for recycling junk mail and magazines and office paper. There are several within a few miles of my house, benefitting worthy institutions like the zoo and a couple of grade schools. These dumpsters make it very easy to recycle all kinds of stuff the city doesn't take curbside.
Milder weather. Soon it will be warm enough everyday to go to the park, and the duck pond, and the playground. (Sadly, it will also soon be warm enough to wear shorts.)
These pants. Old Navy cargo-ey twills. One pair in olive, one pair in tan. Nice enough for work, comfy enough to slouch around the house.
Searchable online obits archives! Not as soothing as perusing the obits page in the actual newspaper, but more efficient. (Yes, I read the obits. Every day. Also the engagement and wedding announcements, sheriff sale listings, and real estate transactions. What can I say, I am nosy.)
These blogs:
3191 – I know, I am late to the party.
Mama Drama is making me laugh out loud.
POD-dy Mouth. Having spent way too many years copyediting for a vanity press (translation: reading and trying to fix the worst dreck imaginable, and then some), I am entertained and intrigued by this blog, suggested to me by anatidaeling (yeah, I don’t know what her name means either.)
This is where, had I the energy, I would wrap up with some clever bon mot. Alas, clever I am not. I will share this tidbit of wisdom with you, however: don't carry tampons in the same baggie with the Motrin and Excedrin.
Don't say I never gave you anything.
