It’s January 31st. I’m sitting in my bedroom. I have the fan on and the windows open. 

It feels beautiful.

My husband and I went on a short evening walk.  It is a slightly chilly 60 degrees out and I wrapped my light sweater around me a little tighter. 

Perfect walking weather.

I’d been getting lazy about bed times lately because I have been too tired to tuck the little ones in. So I avoided putting them to bed until late.  Tonight, however, Sam(3) and Jesse(2) went to bed right at 8.

That was beautiful, too.

I can hear my older boys, along with their dad, in the living room vocalizing their amazement at bombs.  They’re watching a documentary on the United State’s bomb making history, or something like that. 

It’s pretty boring.
It’s why I came in here where it’s quiet, and breezy, with a mild humidity that smells so good.

I seriously love the south in a major way.

I was fussy earlier.  Maybe I still am.  But there are so many simple things to be grateful for.

And now the documentary my kids were watching is over.  I’m gonna jump off of here and go visit with my husband and be happy for a nice, comfortable evening.

And maybe when I stand up my water will break and I’ll have a baby.
There’s always hope, right?

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