Tuesday, July 28, 2009

reminder to myself:

everything is okay, originally uploaded by matirose.

sometimes i just need a little reminder

the voice from the other end of the couch

him: "i'm going to catch up on your blog now."

her: "oh good, i just posted."

him: laughing

her: "what'r you laughing at? It wasn't a funny post. What are you reading?"

him: "a post about me."

her: "but i didn't write a post about you."

him: "yes you did, i found one. i scroll down until i see a post about me."

her: "why does that not surprise me"

Olive Kitteridge

If you haven’t read this book, you really must.

Put it on your “books to read” list (am I the only one that keeps one of these?)

Request it from the library – like I did.

You will not regret it. Not for a minute.

It is the kind of book that wraps you in familiarity from the start.

Where characters are so far from the one-dimensional figures of some popular novels,

But these people live and breathe beyond the pages of the book,

Have lives beyond what has been told,

Hold secrets and stories deeper than one can imagine.

Each story, standing on its own, is a powerful reflection of the human condition.

Of self doubt and self-consciousness, questioning and grief.

But together, they wove an intimate look at the makings of a small town

And the people that keep its heart beating.

It was the kind of book where I always kept a pencil handy –

A pencil and my journal to write down the passages that speak to me…

So here is my offering, my carrot strung in front of your nose,

to lure you into picking up Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout for yourself…

go on, you wont regret it.

Excerpts (quoted by chapter/story)

from "Pharmacy" -

Retired now, he still wakes early and remembers how mornings used to be his favorite, as though the world were his secret, tires rumbling softly beneath him and the light emerging through the early fog.

...and there would be for Henry Kitteridge a flash of incredible frenzy as though in the act of loving his wife he was joined with all men loving the world of women, who contained the dark, mossy secret of the earth deep within them.

She is making applesauce from the season's last apples, and the smell reaches him briefly - sweet, familiar, it tugs at some ancient longing - before he goes out the door in his tweed jacket and tie.

You get used to things, he thinks, without getting used to things.

"it changed me," she wrote, "as experiences do."

from "Incoming Tide" -

A yearning stirred in him that was not sexual but a kind of reaching toward her simplicity of form.

He felt the stain of sadness make its way from her to him.

And yet oddly, the fact of its unhappiness seemed to have a hold on him with the sweetness of a remembered love affair.

The inside of his head began to feel as choppy as the surf before him. Don't go, his mind said to Mrs. Kitteridge. Don't go.

...and then he knew what he'd felt had been hope. Hope was a cancer inside him. He didn't want it; he did not want it. He could not bear these shoots of tender green hope springing up within him any longer.

He would not let her go ...oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.

from "The Piano Player" -

...fingering her black skirt, felt she had figured something out too late, and that must be the way of life, to get something figured out when it was too late.

from "Starving" -

In a moment they both stood, and climbed the narrow staircase to the little room where sunlight shone through the window, making a red glass vase on the bureau glow.

She looked very different from the woman he had married, though he didn't mind that especially, it only bewildered him to think how a person could change.

They lay there in the dark; what gripped him from his bowels on up was the horrible, blank knowledge that she meant this. Still, nobody can accept losses right away ...she said, couldn't he understand - it wasn't him, it was her. She was just done.

Walking back to his car at the marina on those mornings, he was sometimes surprised to feel that the earth was altered, the crisp air a nice thing to move through, the rustle of the oak leaves like a murmuring friend.

The appetites of the body were private battles.

It seemed to be warning him in its heavy pounding that it would not be able to continue like this, only the young, he thought, could withstand the vigors of love.

...that lives get knit together like bones, and fractures might not heal.

There is no telling anyone anything when they have been infected this way.

from "A Different Road" -

You road along in life a certain way, Olive thought.

They would never get over that night. And it wasn't because they'd been held hostage in a bathroom...no, they would never get over that night because they had said things that altered how they saw each other, and because she had, ever since then, been weeping from a private faucet inside her.

from "Winter Concert" -

And she was happy right now, it was true. Jane Houlton, shifting slightly inside her nice black coat, was thinking that, after all, life was a gift - that one of those things about getting older was knowing that so many moments, they were gifts. And how nice, really, that people should celebrate such earnestness this time of year. No matter what people's lives might hold (some of these houses they were passing would have to hold some woeful tribulatiojns, Janie knew) still and all, people were compelled to celebrate because they knew, somehow, in their different ways, that life was a thing to celebrate.

They had fun together these days, they really did. It was as if marriage had been a long, complicated meal, and now there was this lovely dessert.

A gift, she thought, again, placing her mittened hand lightly on his leg, a gift to be able to know someone for so many years.

She wanted to say their hearts were too old for this now; you can't keep doing this to a heart, can't keep on expecting your heart to pull through.

from "Basket of Trips" -

All she knows these days is that when the sun goes down, it's time to go to bed. People manage. She is not so sure. The tide is still out on that one, she thinks.

from "Security" -

Then Olive felt something she had not expected to feel again: a sudden surging greediness for life...she remembered what hope was, and this was it. That inner churning that moves you forward, plows you through life the way the boats below plowed the shiny water, the way the plane was plowing forward to a new place, and where she was needed.

from "Criminal" -

It's just that i'm the kind of person...that thinks if you took a map of the whole world and put a pin in it for every person, there wouldn't be a pin for me.

She pictured lighting little piles of papers in the woods; she had always liked the sudden small burst of a flame.

from "River" -

What young people did not know, she thought, lying down beside this man, his hand on her shoulder, her arm, oh what young people did not know - that lumpy, aged, and wrinkled bodies were as needy as their own young, firm ones, that love was not to be tossed away carelessly, as if it were a tart on a platter with others that got passed around again. No, if love was available again, one chose it, or didn't choose it. And if her platter had been full with the goodness of Henry and she had found it burdensome, had flicked it off, crumbs at a time, it was because she had not known what one should know: that day after day was unconsciously squandered.

And so, if this man next to her was not a man she would have chosen before this time, what did it matter? He most likely wouldn't have chosen her either. But here they were, and Olive pictured two slices of Swiss cheese pressed together, such holes they brought to this union - what pieces life took out of you.

Her eyes were closed, and throughout her tired self swept waves of gratitude - and regret. She pictured the sunny room, the sun-washed wall, the bayberry outside. It baffled her, the world. She did not want to leave it yet.

a morning person

The sound of the press pot in the morning.

There is no sweeter sound this morning.

After a four day break from all caffeine,

and three migraines later, the sound and steam and smell of the

coffee filling my cup was a very welcome sight.


After five years void of all caffeine in my life, last month,

in an effort to keep my sanity – and my eyelids open – at work,

I started drinking one cup of coffee when I got to work every morning.

Then it turned to one cup in the morning and one cup at about 3pm when I hit my daily brick wall.

It went no further – unlike in college – when Curtis would force-feed me cup after cup of coffee in an effort to survive class and study and work and wedding planning.


But last week I decided I again didn't like the feeling of "needing" coffee to survive. And although my migraines were at an all-time low the past month or two, I again, stopped caffeine cold turkey last Friday.


Well, four days and three migraines later, I am convinced that a little caffeine added to my morning routine has really helped my migraines. So here I sit this morning, at my desk, a steaming cup of coffee - one cream, no sugar – next to me and I am happy, the fog of yesterday is gone (the 11 hours I slept last night didn't hurt) and I am once again, a morning person.

Friday, July 24, 2009

image via {lifelovepaper}

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

where does this stuff come from...?

Our Shopping+Style Personalities

My husband. Oh how I love my husband. He is so complex and it is oh so sexy.

But his shopping+style personality is reasonably simplistic. He typically shops based on necessity. That is not to say he is unstylish, quite the opposite really. His fashion sense has evolved from the time I met him. From skater clothes to polo shirts to urban t’s and skinny jeans. He is my man and I love him and his style. There have only been a few times that I feel the need to critique an outfit he puts together. He has a good eye and does well with what he’s got.

But like I said, he shops based on necessity. He waits to buy a pair of jeans until his last pair gets a hole in the tush. He doesn’t buy summer shirts until it’s 90 degrees out and he realizes that last year’s shirts are dingy. He then stocks up. If he finds a shirt or a pair of pants he likes, he buys in bulk. He knows what he likes and likes what he knows and l like him better for it.

So for him, he does a few big shopping trips a year. Hundreds of dollars are usually spent in the span of only a few hours and we leave, he flushed with excitement and me nauseous from the sight of the receipts.

Then there’s me. I almost never partake in large shopping trips. My last big trip was the week after my birthday not this year, but the year before, when all I wanted for my birthday was to go shopping, so friends and family spoiled me with cash and I spent a good couple of weeks buying a new spring/ summer wardrobe. I made every penny stretch – that’s my specialty.

For me, it’s about building a collection slowly – a piece here, a shoe there. I enjoy browsing marshalls, tj maxx, thrift stores for the unique, the marked down, the random. I like finding that thing I didn’t know I was looking for – and finding out that it only costs $6.

Target is my favorite. I can go there for milk or lotion or toilet paper, and end up strolling through the clothes section, especially the clearance racks. More often than not, I leave with just the items I came for, but on occasion, I find a $10 treasure or even a $2 find…target is great with marking items down super fast and super low, so you never know what you might score.

I am not a shopaholic by any means, but there is something about those little red target clearance stickers that gets me. I have a good wardrobe, with a nice eclectic mix of more pricey pieces, many from my days working at anthropologie to my target finds. I have jeans ranging from joes and sevens to my favorite no-name faded boyfriend jeans from TJ Maxx (a whopping $12). I am no snob, that’s for sure. I just like the random purchase, the building of my wardrobe, piece by piece, slowly, naturally.

With all that being said, I probably do spend more money than my husband does on clothing each year. Although his shopping sprees might break the bank, I have quite a collection of shoes and boots and jackets and jeans.

But here is the genius behind our shopping rule – Every month we each get money put aside for a haircut. He gets enough cash every month for one haircut, I get enough cash so that every three months I could get a cut and highlights. Here’s where my deal gets good. If I see some article of clothing or pair of shoes or whatever, and i want it, I buy it out of my haircut fund. If I do that, it just pushes my next haircut or highlights back another month. Or I have to choose between a haircut or color. He never gives up haircuts for clothes, and his shopping trips are not taken out of his hair money.

That is the way we make things fair. That is the way, I don’t get in trouble for buying that $12 blouse.

That is the secret to our happy marriage. No hiding. No secrets.

{and that may or may not be the reason my hair is longer than it’s been in years and my roots are showing}

I'm glad those days are over

, originally uploaded by jpenick999.

I watch a friend cry at work over a boy.
she sits at her computer blurry-eyed, attempting to work,
and alI I can think of is – I’m glad those days are over.
The wondering if it will all work out,
if this is the end, or the end of the end.

I’m thankful for the settling down,
the growing up,
the getting married and the continuation of life with
ring on finger,
confidentthat there will never be a breaking point,
an end or an end to another end.

I’m glad those days are over.

Monday, July 20, 2009

just a spoon full of sugar

On Saturday night we went with our good friends, Kevin & Katie to see Mary Poppins, the musical downtown. We weren't sure what to expect, but it was wonderful. It brought back so many memories of my childhood...it was a great night had by all...and those songs - they really do stick with you for years.

it was a hoot

owls and other birds, originally uploaded by jpenick999.

part of sunday was spent searching for some finishing touches for around our house. we hit the jackpot at tj maxx & more and pier one where we found some delightful owls bookends, a eerily similar green porcelain owl, a bird nest wall sconce and a funky picture hanging contraption for the kitchen.

i have documented my love of owls on this blog before...and these funky finds just make me swoon.

there is now a nice collection of books between the bookends and the picture frame thing is now full of photos and other goodies. it was a suprisingly fun little shopping trip where curtis also scored a $300 pair of sunglasses for $9.99 and i picked up a pair of cute skinny jeans for $15.

i must say - we done good.

Marley and Mea

Last night we layed low, ate homemade matzo ball soup and watched Marley and Me…

Kind of cheesy and although I promised myself I wouldn’t cry – by the end I was wiping tears from my eyes while trying to hide them from Curtis – who was, by that point, laughing at the over-the-top drama of the scene where Marley was being put to sleep. A little dramatic - yes, but so sad...i blame it on PMS.

I just kept thinking of what I will do when Mea eventually dies. I mean, it probably won’t be for a very long time, seeing as she is not even three years old yet, but doggy death is inevitable, and that will be a sad, sad day.

The kicker in the movie for me was when jennifer aniston’s character put her necklace in the dog’s grave and said that they’re family started even before the kids were ever born, that it started when they got marley.

That's when the tears started welling up...

Although we don’t have kids yet, I really feel like our family started the day we picked out Mea.

I remember the day so clearly.

Curtis came home the night before, and told me that he had tried to go pick out a puppy for me for my birthday that afternoon, but he just knew I needed to be there with him.

I responded, “Are you crazy! We can’t have a dog! No no no! I know I said I wanted a dog, but I lied, we can’t handle it. No.”

Then minutes later I took it all back – “Are you serious? Were you really going to try to buy me a puppy? Of course I want one, I’ve always wanted one! Are you really serious?”

So we did our research and found a breeder a couple hours away that had two litters of baby bishons, nearly ready to be adopted. We made arrangements to go see them the next morning, with every intention of returning home empty-handed.

When we got there, I think we both knew we would be leaving with a puppy. The house was clean, and the puppies were well organized, healthy and adorable. We sat on the carpet as puppies came bouncing over to us in all directions. It was something out of a movie…like Marley and Me, except with tiny little white balls of fury bishon goodness.

They were young – only seven weeks and still so little. The runt of the litter seemed to like me and kept falling over my outstretched legs and feet, biting my jeans and licking my ankles. That was her. I just knew it.

The breeder allowed us to take her a week early, and after we wrote the check, we got in the car somewhat in a state of shock of how quickly our new addition had been added to our family.

Curtis drove home, as I sat beside him, puppy asleep in a blanket on my lap. We brainstormed names…and finally landed on two strong options. Mojito or Mea. We had just watched aWoody Allen and Mia Farrow movie the night before.

We decided against Mojito, thinking it might make us sound like alcoholics. We looked at each other, than at the sleeping puppy and said, “Mea.” And that was it. It was decided. I wanted to spell it differently, so no one could mix it up with Maya – so MEA it was.

Halfway through the drive home we stopped at a Wendy’s in nowhere’sville. We parked by a window, layed the sleeping dog in the back seat and went in to grab a quick lunch. At that moment our puppy-parental instincts must've kicked in because we both felt the need to eat with our eyes glued to the car, watching for any sign that she was awake or aware that we left her alone. (she wasn’t).

We then packed back up and made our way home...to begin the story of the three of us.

That is the story of Marley and Mea.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

anthropologie addict

I just remembered how much I miss anthropologie. It hits me every so often – maybe twice a year. Once around Christmas time when I’m looking for the perfect gifts for all the women in my life (wishing I still had that amazing discount) and once every so often, at a random moment, like today.

Somehow I came across the {anthropologie addict blog} and now I am just drooling with delight.

I could go on and on, like I do every so often, but I’ll spare you and tell you to go check out the recently revamped {anthropologie.com} and see for yourself.

If it rains all weekend like it's supposed to, I might just have to go take a little fieldtrip for myself and check out the new fall line as I swoon and slap my own hand back because I can no longer afford the anthropologie way of life.

I melt now.

{image via anthropologie addict}

You are cordially invited...

into my little flickr world.

Although I do love my privacy {which you would have thought this blog would have beat out of me} what is a photo if it is not shared?

I’m not promising anything remarkable or professional in quality, but I do promise that you’ll get a little peep into my life as I know it and the world as I see it.

I got a new camera for my birthday and I am having a smashing good time learning how to use it. So if you’d like to follow my photographic journey, come along then… {spoken in my best british rogue}

And, will you please let me know if you have a flickr page of your own, so I can follow you too.

Have a jolly good day {okay, enough is enough with the accent}

Here is the link to my flickr profile:


And here is the link to my photos:



Friday, July 17, 2009


I feel like I am in a good place…

or at least a lot closer to getting to a good place.

none of the restlessness I was feeling a few months ago.

I am slowly learning peace and patience.

lessons I hope stick with me for a long, long time.

I am hopeful.

not in a giddy schoolgirl kind of way,

although sometimes I wish I was more like that – I am not.

but a hopeful sort of way where

deep down I know everything is going to work out

just as it’s supposed to.

that’s the best kind of hope, I think.

hope peppered in faith

that has been the makings for a string of peaceful, and quite pleasant, days.

a letter of introduction

Dear Matthios,

This morning your mom and dad left to come get you. You probably aren't aware of this fact yet, but you are one very lucky little boy. These parents of yours were picked especially for you and I promise you, you will not be disappointed. They are as good as they come and have prayed for you and waited for you from the time before you were even born. And now, after all the waiting, they’re on their way to bring you home.

I wish I could be there myself, for the moment when the three of you step off that plane, to see you and hug you and introduce myself. But because i cannot be there, this is my introduction to you.

I am not technically related, but in my heart your family is my family. Your momma is like my sister, so I guess, that makes you my nephew. That also makes Haven, your sister, my niece. You will love her too; she’s a riot and there is no little girl I know with a bigger heart. You guys will be fast friends, of that I am sure.

I stand with a large group of people – both your family and friends that are anxious to meet you. We’ve prayed for you, and have stood by your parents' side as they prepare to travel across the world to get you. And now they’re off – to your first home – Ethiopia – to meet you and bring you back to your next home – Ohio.

And I for one, can’t wait. I can’t stop thinking about you this week – your big brown eyes and creamy dark skin. And I keep hoping that you'll get chubby on your momma’s cooking and sleep soundly in your new big boy bedroom and make a smooth transition and realize how many people love you and want to watch you grow up knowing you are loved and were picked special to be a part of the Zeune family.

Like I said, you are one lucky little boy.

{And I'm sure you're momma and poppa won't mind me showing everyone just how cute you are...i can't wait to see a picture of you smiling and laughing...soon enough}

*If you'd like to follow the Zeune's adoption journey, visit their adoption blog {here}.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

::This is my wednesday::


new writing endeavors

making pink fingernails even pinker

contemplating the presence of alcohol in our daily lives

love letters

creamy Greek yogurt

what’s next for my blog

roasted chicken

olive kitteridge

the stars

living gracefully

the smell of the dryer from our driveway

the idea of patience

Monday, July 13, 2009

night works

night works, originally uploaded by jpenick999.

i didn't get a chance to post many of our photos from our fourth of july at the lake. here is a snippet of my attempt at artsy firework shots and of the lake house at night...to see more, visit my flickr page {here}.

thoughts on pain

after almost two weeks of being migraine free, i've had two back-to-back migraines that have kicked my butt.
i had gotten spoiled and forgotten the pain that had woven itself into the fabric of my almost everyday life.

the first came on friday - crept up as we stood as witnesses at my friend's wedding. needless to say, the night was cut short as i rode, sicker than sick, on the long one and a half hour trek home from the reception.

the second came before bed last night and lingered and worsened through today.
i took a sick day and didn't start feeling better until late afternoon.
after feeling good for so long (two weeks is a long time for a girl that usually is in pain at least every other day or two)
the pain reminds me of the blessing of health.
it reminds me of my dependance, on family and friends and faith.
migraines are an integral part of who i am, and although i wouldn't be too sad to see them disappear altogether from my life,
i am aware of the fact that they are, in their own odd way, a blessing.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

these are the eyes

my girl, originally uploaded by jpenick999.

that i am staring at right now...
my best birthday present ever...
even when she licks bugs off the floor,
sits on my face and barks at her reflection in the glass at night.

Friday, July 10, 2009

getting ready

pretty things, originally uploaded by me.

this morning i enjoyed a leisurely, work from home, kind of morning, complete with the today show echoing from the other room, a smoothie in hand and outlook open before me.
it was the way every day should be...

this afternoon we are getting all dolled up - me in the above accessories and short bandage-wrapped dress, him in a suit and tie for my dear friend heather's wedding.

the weather is ideal, sunny and warm and dry. the wedding is being held in an outdoor rose garden of which she had no backup plan for rain. luckily, it looks like that won't even be an issue...

so i'm off, husband in tow...to witness unity at its finest.
...weddings always make me a wee bit romantic, and sentimental.
have a lovely weekend...

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

second half of the day

this is what my dinner looked like tonight.

who knew spaghetti squash could be so awesome.
this was my first time making it and i must say, it was just as good as pasta.
i cooked it in the microwave at a friend's suggestion and then sauteed the stringy flesh in a bit of olive oil, garlic and a little diced onion. i then stirred in some parmesan cheese and then topped with tomato sauce and fresh basil.
it was delectable, and my only regret was that i had noone to share it with.

then since i had a ton of sauce and fresh basil left over, i defrosted a pizza dough and made a couple mini margarita pizzas.

it was an italian feast, my fingers still smell like basil and the roof of my mouth is burned from all the steaming hot cheese.

this definitly makes up for a crappy day

first half of the day

The day started out so well. I got to work earlier than usual and was trucking through the morning with exceptional efficiency – that is, until about 10am.

It started when I knocked over a cup of coffee that was sitting on my desk and watched it spill down my left leg.

Never again will I drink coffee with white pants on.

I kind of freaked out when it happened – to an outsider my moan was probably a bit of an overreaction, but

I spent years searching for the perfect pair of white pants. Long enough to wear with heels, not see-through…you know the drill.

And I finally found them last year at Nordstroms and I was not going to let a little cup of coffee ruin them at work.

So I scrubbed with water and then used up an entire tide to-go pen in an attempt to remove the stains…

And you know what, it didn’t do too bad of a job.

I was ready to take an early lunch and head all the way home to get them in the wash – but I didn’t even end up needing to. Except for a slight tinge of beige, they don’t look too bad actually, and no one but me would probably even notice.

Since then I’ve had the most discombobulated and disjointed day today.

I’ve been distracted and disoriented, day-dreamy and antsy.

Then five o’clock hit and I was ready to start my evening.

I took a deep breath as I headed out the door and was adamant about not letting my day carry over into my evening.

So far it has worked.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

the lake house

it started with waking up early on a Saturday morning

it was a pleasant and sunny drive with my first stop at Krispy Kreme

it was a blueberry donut and iced coffee

it was navigating through a quaint lakeside community until we found the house

it was a white house with the same red flowers I planted in my front yard

it was on the beach and

it was windy

it was a trip to the town grocery store

it was a sandwich lunch of catching up and getting reacquainted

it was laying on the beach in the late afternoon

it was goose bumps and wind and sweatshirts

it was an evening bbq of pulled pork and lots of strangers

it was sitting and talking with sweet elderly folks and

it was watching the sunset over the lake wrapped in blankets

it was taking pictures of the fireworks on the beach and heading inside before they were over

it was fold out couches that pushed us together

it was an early morning Tim Horton’s coffee run (my first)

it was a home-cooked breakfast of eggs and sausage and fresh cantaloupe, strawberries and blueberries

it was putting on bathing suites and heading back to the water

it was finishing a very long book and starting another

it was jet skiis pulling intertubes and witnessing grandy putting us to shame

it was kabobs on the grille for lunch

it was sunburns and showers and repacking suitcases

it was long hugs and running out the door to catch flights and highways

it was a late dinner stop at wendy’s for cheeseburgers and French fries

it was unloading the car as the light faded

it was picking up the pooch and visiting with our favorite doggie sitters and

it was crawling into bed early, exhausted, red and happy.

i want to learn how to embroider

so, i saw this and i thought two things...
first, it's adorable. consider this my love letter to you, my dear.
second, i want to learn how to embroider.
i know it's simple...can't be much harder than those plastic pages i stitched as a child.
outlines of cows and flowers and shoes, with big plastic needles and thick thread.
any ideas of a good first project?

Friday, July 3, 2009

see you on the other side

The last couple of weeks have been, well, exhausting to say the least.

Nothing bad, it’s been a lot of good, actually, compiled together into one giant laundry heap of yawns, late-night movement and snooze buttons.

So, this weekend, we are getting away – to a friend’s grandmother’s lake house in New York to relax and be refreshed. The offer came quite spur-of-the-moment, and when we said yes I knew instantly that this is just what we needed - time together – with good friends and nature.

The water has a way of settling my spirit. I prefer the ocean, but seeing as I live in Ohio, I will take a lake, happily. Beggars can’t be choosers, you know.

Saturday morning we depart – on route to the lake, to swim and sun and read and write and talk and sit and sleep.

Sounds like heaven to me…see you on the other side.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

this is what was waiting for me last night...

Last night i got home late - after a fabulous happy hour/ wedding shower for a dear friend of mine at work...
Curtis had the day off and i walked in the door at 8pm, exhausted {and a little bit tipsy, if you must know} to this beautiful bouquet waiting for me on the kitchen counter....
complete with a very sweet, hand-written note.
That wasn't the end of my day - it ended with a bonfire in the backyard with friends - but it was a wonderful middle to a very good night.

soundtrack to my day

...I never thought I could love anyone but myself

now I know I can't love anyone but you...

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