We washed the dogs this morning, which means one bathroom, the stairs and most of the downstairs got a washing, too. My knees are still quite damp. My husband has taken them to the reservoir to walk them and have them dry off. It rained all last night but is beautiful today. I'm going to tackle jello salad and soup this morning, and see where I am for tomorrow's dinner. I know I have the wrong kind of bread for stuffing, so I'd better change that. There is almost always something I'm missing when I get going. Luckily for me, I live seven houses from a grocery.
I'm trying to keep in mind my gratitude: for my life, my health, my family, my friends. We are all in our separate homes baking away, but my joy about their being alive is foremost. And then there are the little things: my crown didn't fall out last night, there was no river in the kitchen this morning, our dogs have not done any landscaping recently, my skin is turning a paler pink from it's original fushia after the reaction to the biopsy. It's all good, as Jim Carrey would say. And if Morgan Freeman isn't President of these United States, Obama is.
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