Sunday night allowed us a few minutes to frolic. Henry ran around for a bit, tried to pick me a bouquet - I snapped pictures all the while, Nate rolled his eyes at my compulsive clicking, but tried to feign support for my habit. Then Henry was lured away by the siren song of the playground. My legs were terribly itchy; we decided a spell on the swings might take our mind off the irritation.
The outing was a good way to detoxify our systems which had nearly been poisoned by the "salt salad" I served for dinner - an Asian Chicken concoction gone awry. Makes me parched just to remember it.
Ope, I've so much more to say, but a little boy just appeared at my side, matchbox cars in hand and a make-shift car track has just been constructed on the living room floor. That's my cue to quit.
Today, I'm happy to be here. Content with my home, my family, my friends, my field of flowers - sometimes I think it blooms just for me. Even on the good days, though, part of my heart always hankers for Oregon.