Atlanta is bathed in yellow dust. Everywhere. Thank gosh I don't suffer allergies. With a big hairy dog, there's lots of yellow to be traipsed into the house. I'm forever vacuuming and swiffering, and never seem to stay ahead of it. Luckily, his white fur has stayed super white; otherwise, he'd look like a big jaundiced baby. [When Gideon semi-closes his mouth, like the bottom right picture of the collage, we think he looks like Sam the Snowman from Rudolph. Gideon himself thinks the resemblance is uncanny.]
Worked at church this morning for Easter clean-up day, one of my favorite volunteer activities. We are literally cleaning house for His arrival. There's something really compelling about preparing things for a loved one's homecoming.
Then off to Piedmont Hospital to see Molly and Jamey and new baby Hammond. What a handsome boy. Loved spending time with Molly, chatting and, of course, holding the sleeping baby Hammond my entire visit. Luckily, no new visitors were vying for Hammond-time. I had him all to myself. Heaven.
And, gang, don't count on any thrift-store-find posts. With my upcoming beach vacation, every time I think of going into a thrift store here in the hamlet of Norcross, I think about that money being spent on a whole slew of to-be-discovered thrift stores in my beach destination. That's a no-brainer.
"Our house was not unsentient matter — it had a heart and a soul, and eyes to see with; and approvals and solicitudes and deep sympathies; it was of us, and we were in its confidence and lived in its grace and in the peace of its benedictions. We never came home from an absence that its face did not light up and speak out in eloquent welcome — and we could not enter it unmoved."- Samuel Clemens
I am probably the most content person you'd ever want to meet. I have a decent job working with people I like, a loving family including a swell Old English Sheepdog, a home where nesting and curling up on slipcovered sofas is required, and a life rich in creative crafting and daydreaming. I someday want a cottage at the beach where my grandchildren can bring sandy feet into the house, wet bathing suits can dry on the front porch and everything we need to get to is a bicycle ride away.