It's noon and the bird is in the oven, all the prep is done for the side dishes, and aside from the neighbor who insists in working his wet saw today (and every single blessed day for the last two weeks) everything is just about as perfect as it can be. Maybe not Hollywood perfect or June Cleaver perfect or Martha perfect—I almost included Stewart, but I guess she's a is a one-name celebrity because I know you know exactly who I'm referring to.
At least she didn't go the J-Lo route 'cause Ma-Stew just doesn't have the same ring to it. Ma-Stew just makes me think of Ma Kettle from The Egg and I, one of my mom's all-time favorite books that I've strangely never read. Maybe I should. Anyhow, back to perfection…
Okay, so everything is perfect in the sense that the sun is out and the sky is a clear, cold blue, Scoob is on the back patio reading and lounging in the sunshine, the kitties are happy and cuddly (though that may have more to do with the smoked salmon I ate than anything else), and I'm on my second cup of coffee feeling pretty darn content with the world. And I'm grateful for all of it. And I'm grateful that that's all it really takes to make me happy and that it's attainable almost everyday, not just on Thanksgiving.
And I'm grateful that Scoob was so thoughtful as to hook up the speakers in the kitchen today so I could listen to my iPod and sing and dance as I putter. Bonus points for him, especially since he can't stand a lot of my music.
Good to hear of your contentment this day.
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