Enjoying the Small Things (and bad pick-up lines for Life)

When I lived up north, I remember every year, post-Christmas, I entered a dreaded funk. Christmas was over, the cold continued, and all the ghost town store aisles of broken candy canes and clearanced winter scents echoed the let-down. I actually quit my college Victoria's Secret job the day after Christmas one year because I didn't want to leave my sister's and couldn't face the hour long snowy drive to a depressing mall. I just called up the morning I was supposed to work and said "I quit." This irresponsibilty, of course, led to the explanation that I could never be hired by Victoria's Secret again, and I think I replied with something like "Yeah, I'm cool with that." Thankfully, other things worked out. But I still regret the impulsive irresponsibilty. (Sorry, Victoria. I still dig your bras.)

Which brings me to this...

Florida rocks post-Christmas.



It's like straddling the best of both worlds. One foot still grounded in that homey vibe of quilts and firelogs and mistletoe candles and one bravely stepping into the promise of a new year with sunshine, blue skies and palms unfurled.





The bonus: I still get to wear boots and scarves.


Okay, totally laughing...I just noticed... Dude, my zipper's undone!

Today is the last day I will bask in my thirty-first year. I am swimming vigoriously these last laps because I hear the crowd roaring, I see the blur of the finish line, and I know this year was one hell of a victory.



Tomorrow I will dance. Tomorrow I will write. Tomorrow I will squeeze tight the goodness this year has brought and reflect on it all.

But today?

Today, I will enjoy the small things.





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SHADOW WAVES



She spots her shadow all the time. Actually sets out searching for it and when she finds it...she waves. And smiles. Cutest thing I've ever seen.



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THE DISASTEROUSNESS OF THE GIRLS' ROOM

Lainey made a new sign for her door and hung it all by herself. I don't know what it means but I'm pretty sure, by the looks of things, it means "My room looks like hell. Stay out."



Ever step on an upturned click-clack shoe? It hurts.

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CAMOUFLAGE DOGS

Thankfully, Latte is safe from any lake predators.



It is not unusual for our lake trips to include us screaming for Latte who, we think, ran off. Nine times out of ten, she's right in front of us. Just hidden with the poodle-fur grass.

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THIS SONG PLAYING.

(Song not available for photo at time of post)

Love it. Dance, dance, dance.


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SLEEPING BABY EYELASHES.



Can I get an amen?

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FUNKY MORNING HAIR.



She has a wild chunk of hair, front and center, that kind of does its own thing, and I totally love it. Even if I have to barrette it down during the day.

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INVIGORATING SUNSHINE

You know, the kind that stretches through the bite of cold air, warms every puddle of lingering potential within you and possesses you with the thrill for the new year and everything it holds? Yeah, that kind.

We walked to the lake today, me a few steps ahead of the rest of them, her pedaling like mad to reach our strides, and the littlest her kicking, waving, and content to just be.



We fished and lounged and called for the dog who was, come to find out, just rolling in the dead grass a few feet away.






Lainey's sweater made by my mama; Lainey's dress made by the talented Kiki. I want everything in her shop, especially this and this and this.

And it was lovely.





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AS IS HER BUDDING LOVELINESS ON THE BRINK OF ONE



She is changing, growing, beaming, blossoming into more goodness, and we are turning the pages to new chapters that hold more joy.



I find myself laughing a lot these days. Mostly because she can make a hell of a beeline across the tile, around the bend of the laundry room door, to the dog dishes in a New York minute. I'll hear the ceramic bowl scraping against the tile, run in there, and here she is, just a grinning. Because she knows she's funny. It kills me in the I-wish-I-could-have-understood-this-happiness-last-January kind of way.





I am feeling all sappy and celebratory and quite in love with Life tonight. In fact, if I bumped into Life at a bar right now, I'm pretty sure I'd have no problem embarrassing myself with bad pick-up lines.

Hey there, Life. The voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you. What time do you have to be back in heaven?

And then Life would say something back, I'd laugh and the two of us would run out the back door into a field of daisies. Cue sunset.
Or something like that.



Dance. Dance. Dance.