Love, true love

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On Instagram, I waxed poetic on how, the older I get, Valentine’s Day tends to look a lot more like Thanksgiving. As a matter of fact, it seems so much so, that when I dropped my mom’s Valentines off at her work, I exclaimed, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Let’s be honest, if you’re going to get muddled, that’s a mighty fine way to go about it.

Love just makes life better. It doesn’t matter the type; as C.S. Lewis once penned, “the highest does not stand without the lowest.” It may be romance one day, the kindness of a stranger the next, still it lightens our load.

Seems an awful lot for which to be thankful.

Needless to say, in the days ahead I hope your heart overflows with love (for family, friends, pets, and strangers); may it overflow with gratitude, too.

xo

P.S. I stumbled upon this illustration awhile back. It makes smile, for it reminds me of my own knight in shining armor (only 10,000 times cuter and not at all surprised his lady is using his chest plate as a mirror). God gave me a true help mate in that man. It’s one of the things for which I am so very thankful.

P.P.S. And here are the details of the image (if you’re curious): La Belle Dame sans Merci – Punch cartoon – Project Gutenberg eText 19105; From The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, December 1, 1920, by Various.

More of the little things

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Greetings!

The week held a plethora of diversions, and yet there’s nothing much to report . . .

I was randomly selected for drug testing. In the words of my honey, they are barking up the wrong tree. All the same, I nearly blew my eyeballs out trying to get the breathalyzer to beep; and it was somewhat appalling to know a stranger stood guard right outside the restroom, and I couldn’t flush the toilet or wash my hands immediately following. Eew.

On a brighter note, I was able to “collect a sample” on demand (something of a miracle, that); and the elevator didn’t fail me on the way down to the basement (equally impressive).

Of course, to recover, I had to make tacos for dinner–Double Decker tacos, no less, with all the fixings . . . including green onions.

I’ve not had a raw green onion for quite some time. It took me right back to my childhood.

You see, my dad had two great aunts: spinster sisters, they had carved out a comfortable life for themselves–laughing, reading, doing as they pleased. Every so often we’d go over for dinner. Mom and dad would sit with them around the table and talk for hours; I’d lounge about on the sofa, playing with my dolls, perusing books and magazines, watching television.

And the food! If food truly is the way to a man’s heart, I’m amazed there wasn’t a line a hundred miles long. No matter the menu, it was always delectable; and there was always enough to feed an army. Platters and bowls covered every inch of the table. And without fail, there were green onions.

Those ladies loved their onions. And it tickled them pink that a little girl with strawberry blond hair loved them too. Here’s our onions, Amy, they’d cheerfully announce. They’d hand me the bowl and I’d dutifully place them on the table. Then they’d chortle with glee as I spooned a helping onto my plate. You like onions; that’s a good sign, they’d say. You’re obviously destined for greatness. Then they’d throw their heads back in a fit of hilarity.

Funny how a taste (or scent or sound) can take you right back . . .

With that, I wish you a happy weekend. May your days be full of small blessings and the simplest of pleasures . . . plenty to make you smile.

xo