Wednesday, February 11, 2009

My Favorite Things

Lately, I've been thinking about things that make me feel rich, that are my favorite things. You know, the little things that mean a lot, and you would miss if they would no longer be there.

Things that feed my soul are laughter, especially a young child's belly laugh, bird song, a walk in nature, the warm sun on my skin, a good book, bear hugs, a cup of hot steaming coffee in the mornings with my hubby, sewing, digging in the dirt in my garden, hearing the hoot owls calling back and forth in the still of the night, seeing my kids happy and doing what they are best at, a hot shower, when my grandkids squeal with excitement when I walk in the door and I get hugs and kisses, cookies hot from the oven, making soup that makes your mouth water, roses in the summer, butterflies fluttering back and forth from flower to flower, watching a red-tailed hawk soar on an updraft of a breeze, cardinals on the snow, watching squirrels chasing each other's tails around and around the trees in my yard, looking for the first tulip in late winter, reading good poetry that makes me say to myself, "I wish I'd written that!", when my hubby reaches for my hand when we go for a walk, driving in the country, wildflowers, lilacs, windmills, black cattle grazing in green pastures as I drive Highway 6 or 25, round bales of hay that dot the hay fields, rain on the roof, singing Amazing Grace when no ones around, and fireworks in the night sky on the 4th of July.

What makes you happy? Make a list and leave me a comment. I think it would be fun to read your lists.

Mr. Sassy Pants

Monday night Jack came to eat dinner with us, since his Mom needed to catch an appointment in one direction and his Daddy in the other direction for work, he got to come play with Jerry and me. Before he came, I put our dogs, Maggie and Sam, out back, because they get pretty excited when the grandkids come, and in their enthusiasm, they sometimes knock Jack down, which isn't a good way to be greeted at Grandma's door, when you are just 2 years old.

Jack was feeling pretty comfortable eating chicken and noodles with Tori when Jerry let the dogs back in the house. The schnauzer, Sam, has this interesting habit of barking indignantly, especially if we haven't let them in the minute they want. On Monday night, Sam proceeded to bark in disgust inside the back door, and carried on quite awhile scolding us in his way. I looked at Jack and commented, "Well, there is Mr. Sassy Pants!"

A few minutes later, Jack was running around singing, "Sassy pants. Sassy pants," in a little song he was making up. It was so cute! I hope Dave and Amy get a kick out of his new phrase he picked up. And I was so relieved it wasn't an expletive he learned at Grandma's house!

Whew! That was a close one.