six eggs and almost a cup of butter later

Today as I loaded up the washer I realized I am very fortunate. I can genuinely say I enjoy every day of the week. I am not impatiently looking forward to – nor dreading – any particular date or commitment. I enjoy the day I have. It’s really quite astonishing as this wasn’t how I used to live my life. I was always revving up or digging in my heels, one way or the other – sometimes both! Very rare, these days.

Today at the Treatment Center an older woman told us, haltingly, it was her first time in any such program. She’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer some time back. She’d ended up in treatment by unknown means (to me), but she said she “liked her beer”, and it was the only joy she had left. Why quit, as she was dying anyway.

Another friend, only sober a handful of days after a relapse. He struggled to talk and then fell silent, a bloom creeping up on his cheeks. Just before we left he put his arms out for a hug and I gave him one, thinking of the love I feel today.

I was thinking, I know a lot of really heroic and amazing people. I was thinking, I have friends I can look up to who have principles I admire tremendously. I haven’t always had this much support, and I haven’t always been that teachable.

At home I made up Nels’ birthday present, as well as tasked myself with the beginnings of cake construction for his little party on Saturday. No baker I, but I can learn a new trick now and then.

Dinnertime. Ralph was out, and I fed the kids (roast pork loin, broccoli, mashed potatoes, homemade pretzel knots) and sat with them and we talked about our day.


Today my son had chocolate on his face after licking the cake batter beater, and a cowlick, and he’s missing four teeth. As Norman-Rockwellian as you can possibly imagine.

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