- The cat cuddled up on our office floor while I typed and typed and typed.
- My high school students getting so excited to give me a present that they had pooled all their resources to win me on their field trip to Great America. Also,taking them outside during a break to blow bubbles is a pretty good memory, especially since of them (a JUNIOR in high school) told me that he had never blown bubbles before.
|They got me a chili pepper. Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?|
- The profusion of tiger lilies that just randomly appeared earlier this week in every field and ditch, glorious orange and brown among the greens of the growing season.
- The corn sprouting, going from barely knee high to over my head seemingly overnight.
- The look of absolutely delighted terror on my nephew's face when he jumped out of the swing into my arms.
- The light show the fireflies put on here at night. When you look outside our door, it's like a laser show over the water.
- Speeding in my car with the windows rolled down and the Dixie Chicks on as loud as it would go while I screamed out the lyrics and pretended Natalie Maines had never gotten them blacklisted.
Things I would like to forget about this week:
- The fucking fennel in our CSA. Seriously. Now I'm stuck with fennel bulbs and fennel greens and can't find a decent recipe for any of it. And we're getting more in just a couple of hours.
- The whole fireworks and noise thing.
- Bluegrass music. If my husband listens to one more Chris Thile song around me, I might shove that mandolin up Thile's ass.
- The conversation I had with my niece and nephew in which my nephew listed off his best friends and included some kids from his preschool and his two male cousins closest to him in age and his twin sister furrowed her brow and reported that she had no best friends. I almost cried.
- The nights I spent crying myself to sleep because I need to learn how to be more assertive.
- Did we talk about the fireworks and the noise thing yet? Or the gnats, mosquitoes, and noseeums that swarm me as soon as I step foot outside the door? Or the 90 degrees with a dewpoint of 72? Or the bullfrog(s?) that live(s?) in the man-made pond by our building that croaks all freaking night long? Eh. The outside can be boycotted for the next two months.