I wouldn’t say the past week and a half has been very busy, but sometimes the days get away from us and we forget to revel in the little things. As this month of love winds down, I’ve found a few more things that quite tickle my fancy.
I love to be right! For example, I was explaining to my husband one evening that our son moves in a sloth-like manner for things that require prompt and steady reaction. Things such as grabbing the puke bucket while baby projectile vomits all over the living room. I used the term “lackadaisical” and my husband chuckled and corrected me stating “the correct pronunciation is lacksadaisacal…there is an S in there.” I paused for a moment and thought that I may have stumbled, but then I regained composure and explained to him that I believe I am indeed correct…don’t doubt the spelling bee queen, here! He chuckled again and said that I was very wrong, even enlisting our daughter to mock and provoke me. I proved to him in less than a minute by typing the word in spell check and then again on the internet…the dictionary, yes, trusty old Merriam-Webster had validated me…I was RIGHT! haHA! *Victory fist pump*
When my bed is made…it looks so nice and neat. This is a rare occasion. I’m not sure why, it only takes a few minutes to do. But, some days, I just am not feeling it. Maybe it’s a kind of rebellion, harken back to my childhood where I don’t recall ever having to make my bed, so why should I now? It makes me feel just a tiny little bit like my house is in order when the comforter is straight and the pillows lined up and fluffed. It makes me want to sit on my bed and read a book of the actual paper and binding kind. Peruse magazines. Write grocery lists and calendar events. It makes me want to lay my head down and nap for no less than two hours, maybe three. Yes…such fantasies I weave.
My Roman sandals. At this point, they literally are just pieces of cardboard glued together and bound with some awesome leather, strappy, worn, faded, and second-hand. My youngest sister always tries to give her hand-me-downs to my teenaged daughter and these were in the mix a few years ago. Actually, I think they were going to be thrown in the trash along with the mountain of boxes she always brings to my house to recycle. But I scooped these out of the garbage can and they’ve never gone a day without my feet since then. I can wear them with practically any outfit and any season (it being Florida and all). I can wear them to the beach, to the mall, to the park, to the library, for shopping, for strolling, for my kids’ award ceremonies. They are always ready to go, by the door, slip them on and I’m out. The baby has started playing with all of our shoes. He’ll walk around in them as if he’s grown up. He leaves toys in them. He leaves them in separate rooms. My husband came across one of my sandals and slipped it on his big toe and I exclaimed, a bit frightened, “Don’t! You’ll rip it and I won’t be able to wear them anymore!” He laughed and I snatched it from his ridiculously large and brutal foot. My heart raced as I inspected it. I can’t even find a brand name or size on the damn thing to prepare for the day I have to replace them. I hope they last a few more years, my feet and I love them so.
Cheesecake. I had a dinner date with an old high school friend last Friday. We live in separate towns and try to meet for lunch every few months to catch up. We had planned to meet at The Cheesecake Factory, the place that serves ridiculous portion sizes for dinner at ridiculous prices, but I can overlook that because they have the most amazing cheesecake, in my opinion. I like my cheesecake plain, soft, creamy…and that’s exactly how they make it. The calorie count for one slice makes me cry out in horror, but since I hardly ever eat dessert, I can indulge. But, during the season of Autumn, they have two special ones, Pumpkin and Pumpkin Pecan. They are so scrumptious, so delectable, so damn good that I’ll talk about it for months. I attempted to order it that night, but sadly, it is only a seasonal item (which I knew, of course), but hoping and hoping and asking and asking again did not make them appear. I’ve turned my daughter onto it, as well. She normally does not accompany me on such dates, but made sure to include herself this time. She left with the strawberry cheesecake, I with The Original. I took two days to savor each bite, consciously eating only half of mine at each dessert time. It was good…oh, so good.