January 31

I don't love February. I haven't for some time now. I guess that's not much of a surprise.

I wasn't really conscious that we'd reached the final day of January until the mid-day'ish hours, but I think my subconscious knew because I woke up feeling sad, tired, and oddly overwhelmed for the first day of a brand new, promise-filled, unlived-in week.

I slogged my way through my Bible study, silently listening and absorbing I as crocheted away at my latest project. But, curiously for me since I'm usually a talker, I didn't have much to say.

At some point I developed a headache I couldn't shake, so I picked up the boys from school and hid away in my room. And then over dinner, I looked over at Abby and noticed that she too seemed... sad. So I went over and hugged her and just... was.

So yeah. I don't love February. Although I can't stop the calendar page from turning tomorrow, I'm grateful that it's just one month out of 12. And sadness aside, I'm grateful that it's easier than it used to be.

January 30

I was gratified to find this scene when I emerged from my room at one point this afternoon.

The three of them (mostly) peacefully playing a game of Mario Kart. 

It didn't last forever, of course, because nothing ever does, but it was nice to see them getting along and being together, even if it was for a relatively short time. Because whether they realize it or not, they're laying the groundwork for lifelong friendship. And that kind of relationship is an enormous blessing.

January 29

Today felt particularly imperfect.

Abby and I headed out for our usual Saturday shopping escapades but it didn't take long before a disagreement marred the experience. It was mostly my fault, and though I apologized, I still feel like dirt because there was a definitive moment when I could've chosen to hold my tongue, but did not. And then it all went south.

So we came home. She went up to her room, and I settled into my chair in the family room with a number of my on-going crochet projects, including this one. And I stitched and thought about the day. 

Although I wish life could be perfect and orderly like this little swatch of sweater-to-be, I know that on this side of Heaven, that's just not the case. But I'm grateful for the promise that Someday will eventually arrive.

January 28

Fun fact: back when we were in college, Adam and I attended the taping of the pilot episode of "That 70's Show." In fact, if you go back and watch the episode and listen to the studio audience laughter, you can probably hear him at times because when he laughs, it's hearty.

So what prompted the little walk down memory lane? Well, this evening we all settled down in the family room after dinner to watch a movie. (Said-film was "Free Guy", for the record. It's worth a view.)

Anyhow, there were moments during the movie when Adam laughed like he did back then -- heartily and loudly and long. And the display made me laugh a little, too, because there's something infectious (and distinctly Adam) about that laugh. 

So for that laugh and my own chuckles and the time with the fam as the weekend dawns, I am thankful.

January 27

This is probably a strange revelation, but I love hazelnuts.

My grandpa kept bags of them tucked away in the freezer, and I remember sitting in the chair in the family room munching away on those delicious nuts when I was a kid.

Hungry for a literal taste of sweet nostalgia, I scouted local stores for some and was disappointed to discover that they're something of a hard-to-find snack food. 

But then this morning, I found a can during a quick trip to CVS. Although it probably sounds silly, my heart leapt when I saw it. And, naturally, it came home with me. 

As I savored my previously pined-for snack this afternoon, I smiled at the memories that sprang to mind. It's a blessing that simple things can trigger such happy thoughts, isn't it? I think so. 

January 26

Ah, 'tis the season for baseball to begin.

And Mr. Brady had his first practice as a member of the Majors Pirates this afternoon. We've never had this particular coach and he doesn't know many of the other boys on the team --save one from last year's AAA team and one from his old elementary school-- but I know he's glad to be out there playing again.

I'm hopeful that win or lose (or tie), it will be a good experience for him (and for us). So for a fresh new season of ball that's not stained or hindered by COVID, I am optimistic and grateful.

January 25

I actually pulled over to take this photo shortly after we left the house this morning.

The boys were puzzled by the move. I told them I thought it was beautiful so I wanted to remember the scene. Isaac craned his head around for a peek and remarked that he didn't see anything special, and Brady parroted his bigger brother's observation. I told them that that was okay; that we all see beauty in different things and at different times. And then I put the car back in drive and resumed the drop-off protocol.

Although their 'eh' response to the beautiful sunbeams and the misty residual fog and the outlines of the trees got under my skin a little, what I told them is true: we all find beauty in different places. So today, I am thankful that I saw something beautiful right around the corner from my house.

January 24

It was a nice day, as far as Mondays go. I had my Bible study, wandered around Walmart until I remembered what I'd gone in for in the first place, went to Costco with Adam, and had dinner with the fam. (That's the succinct version, of course.)

As we sat down to eat our cheese and pepperoni pizza slices, I realized once again that I'm blessed that these are my people. Not a one of us is perfect, but I think we all do the best that we can. 

So for the gift of being close to good people who try, I am grateful.

January 23

'Twas another football-heavy day at our house. After church (for Abby, Brady, and I), online church (for Adam, who drove Isaac to practice), and baseball practice (for Isaac), I hunkered down in the family room under my awesome heated throw with game number one on the tube and started work on a cardigan. I love the pattern and am looking forward to the finished product, but the beginning phase was a bit of a challenge.

The suggested yarn is very fine and honestly, I just couldn't see the stitches well enough to work the rows. So I opted for a larger yarn and once again got to work, but then decided that I didn't like the color scheme. So I started over again, this time with this silver bamboo variety.

And thus far, I like it. It's going to take a long, long time to finish, but that's okay because the best projects with the best outcomes quite often take a long, long time to come to completion. 

Oddly enough, that truth made me think about relationships and how the best ones take actual concerted work and effort and sacrifice if they're going to thrive. Given how easy it can be to give up when I'm frustrated, I'm thankful that I know that truth.

January 22

This evening the boys in our house joined throngs in the Bay Area as they tuned in to watch the Niners versus Packers game on TV. (Abby's not a football chick, though she was --at one point-- able to name all of the teams. Fun fact. And I wandered in and out of the room.)

Anyhow, I heard them intermittently whooping and hollering during pivotal game moments and their tribalism made me smile. And then later, as Gould kicked the winning field goal with no time left on the clock, I watched from above as Adam tossed Steve (Brady's stuffed 49er) into the air and they whooped a little more in celebration.

I love seeing them all together father-son bonding time. And I love seeing their enthusiasm. Both are big blessings to this mom's heart.

January 21

Isaac and Alex have played on the same baseball team for going on two years now. I'd spent some time chit-chatting with Alex's mom at games and carpooling with the boys up to Pleasant Hill for practices, but we'd never really gotten together until tonight, when we all went over to their house for dinner.

I'm never quite sure how these kinds of gatherings will pan out so I approach them with a dose of nervousness, but that needn't have been the case this evening. The kids --all six of them-- gelled just fine, and I had a great time eating fettuccine alfredo and cherry crepes and talking with Jen about baseball, our shared affinity for prosecco, school, and playgroups of old.

I felt a little badly for Adam, who had a big golden retriever to keep him company but was clearly tired out from a long week of work, but he stuck it out like a champ. 

It's such a blessing when these things work out well. And I am thankful for the moments.

January 20

I'm in the middle of what I'd call a lonely season. A few years ago that truth would've bothered me, but I'm okay with it for now. I'm enjoying the quiet time and I'm learning how to re-shift my focus to God when my mind starts to wander too much. And, of course, I'm enjoying the chance to exercise my creative muscles in a tangible way that I hope will bless others.

I've been a busy little bee, but these are two of my most recent projects. Although I began them without a clear idea as to who would receive them, I'm pretty sure I've now resolved those questions. So now, I just need to work on them, pray over them, and work on them some more until I finally finish. And then I get to give them away.

So yep, it may be a lonely season, but I'm relishing the quiet nonetheless, because not being busy running to and fro 24-7 is a blessing.

January 19

Now that Isaac is out of COVID jail, he was able to get back to baseball this afternoon.

It was just a quick one-hour fielding session on one of the local diamonds, but it was good to see him out there again, spots of rust and all. 

When he popped his shoulder out of joint last fall, I had a few panicked moments that made me question his baseball future. It wasn't fun thinking about how a freak injury could strip him of his ability to play the game he loves so much. 

So seeing him doing his thing today --post-COVID, post-injury-- was extra sweet. And my plan moving forward is to savor each moment out on the field as it comes because each of those moments will be a blessing.

January 18

For the first time in nearly a month, I got up and took someone to school this morning. That someone was Brady, because Isaac still has a few more days until his 10-day isolation period expires.

Anyhow, since I didn't have to pick up Isaac and the temperature was a rather pleasant 60ish, I wound up walking over to retrieve Brady in the afternoon.

Then we enjoyed a leisurely stroll-and-chat back to the house. (Which means that we both strolled while Brady relayed the pluses and minuses of his day. In short, the big plus was that he was moved up a level in math, the 'eh' was that he's now the only boy at a table with FOUR girls, and the big minus was the requisite recess-time four square game drama.)

I love hearing him talk about his day and I love how what he says gives me further insight into who he is. And who he is, for the record, is pretty awesome, so I am blessed.

January 17

After nearly a month of non-stop time together, these boys will spend hours apart tomorrow as Brady finally makes his post-Christmas break and post-COVID return to school. (Isaac is slated to go back Wednesday, since he was asymptomatic when he tested positive... yeah, it's a little goofy.)

But today was today, which meant they spent their hours hanging out with SlimeDog and SlimyBoy and Chub and BearBear as they played video games and chased each other around the house. (And snacked. We can't forget the food consumption.)

It is such a huge blessing that they're growing up together and that they love each other. 

January 16

Another day, another stunning late-afternoon skyscape.

I don't have any special observations to share; I just wanted to share the image because I think it's beautiful. 

And I think every single one of us could use a little more beautiful in our daily lives, don't you?

January 15

Abby had some cash burning a hole in her pocket this afternoon (okay so not really, just some Christmas money) so we headed out to JoAnn. 

As she drove us back toward the house following her mini shopping spree, the clouds and the sun lined up in the sky to create a stunning image.

So when we got home, I ran up to the deck in the yard for a longer look. 

As I've said many times before, I so love the pictures that God paints for us each evening. Sometimes they're colorful, sometimes they're clouded over, but they're always different. And they're always beautiful in their own unique ways. Just like YOU.

January 14

When we got back from Maryland, I decided I wanted to make something colorful. Something cheerful. So I pulled out the little crochet book Brady got me for Christmas, flipped through its pages, and got started on this afghan.

It's definitely bright (as it should be since it uses 13 different colors). And the little wiggly blue part in the middle gave me fits because the stitch counts listed in the pattern were off and I had to re-figure them. But I sorted out the issue and it's coming along. And although it's not everyone's cup of tea, I like it.

And beyond all of that, I was pleasantly surprised when Abby remarked that it reminded her of the Coat of Many Colors from the Bible, both because I think she's right and because she made the connection in the first place. Feeling connected to scripture is good for my heart, so I am thankful.

January 13

The good news is that although the boys have COVID, they feel absolutely fine.

The bad news is that although the boys have COVID, they feel absolutely fine.

The house was blessedly quiet when I first got up this morning. Abby was off at school, and Isaac and Brady were both hard at work on the assignments they've gotten from their teachers. 

But then they finished their work and bam, the ruckus began. The squabbling, the laughing, the high-speed laps around the first floor, the wrestling, the sweating. The noise. It's definitely not the vibe I'd planned on experiencing this week. 

But it's still good. I'm thankful that they're positive but not sick. And I'm grateful that Abby is still testing negative (and that I tested negative, too). And I'm glad that they'll be able to go back to school next week. All good things. So when the volume gets a little too high and I feel the frustration rise, I remember those truths. And most of the time, it helps.

January 12

The sunset this evening was absolutely stunning.

Regrettably, Adam and I were en route to Costco as the sky chameleoned its way through those vibrant shades of red and orange, so this is the best image I could capture. 

But the beauty --and, strangely enough, the transience-- of those colors made an impression. Sometimes the most beautiful, most impactful, and most meaningful moments of this life happen when we least expect them. And sometimes they happen quickly and are over before we even realize something special has occurred. 

So for the blessing of the reminder to keep my eyes open and my heart tuned to the little things that are going on around me, I am grateful.

January 11

Today is my 44th birthday. 

I won't say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, per se, but I definitely felt out of sorts from the time I awoke from my slumber. I'm not entirely sure why, but maybe it was because the boys are home from school with COVID and very bored (which in turn makes them excessively loud and rambunctious). Or maybe 'twas because I'm still reeling from the crazy trip back east. Or maybe because 44 is kinda-sorta (definitely) the mid-40s and I'm not sure how I feel about turning 50 in just six years. Or maybe because I know that in one short month, we'll be memorializing the 10th anniversary of Logan's death and I just can't wrap my brain around the truth that I haven't looked into those beautiful blue eyes for ten. Whole. Years. I guess, in looking over all of those things, I had a few reasons to feel overwhelmed. And maybe even a little sad. So that's how it was.

Anyway, I didn't do much today. I ate the little strawberry cupcake that my friend Carol brought over yesterday and I drank the coffee and ate a chocolate chip cookie that Tina dropped off this morning. And I admired the bouquet of flowers that Adam arranged for me and the unicorn-dappled balloon that he left by the kitchen table. And I cried for a while in my closet while I talked with God about things I won't talk about here. And then I went off by myself to shop for nothing in particular, and returned with some yarn (because duh) and did a little crocheting on the beginnings of a cute blue chevron blanket I started yesterday. And then this evening we had takeout from CPK and presents and cake. 

In hindsight, it was a nice enough day, I suppose, and I know that I am blessed with my wonderful family. But for one reason or another or for lots of reasons combined, it was also a hard day. And I am thankful that I can share that truth with all of you, because the ability to be truthful and vulnerable without shame... that's a blessing, too, even if it's not one that anyone really wants.

January 10

I double-masked up and headed out this morning to pick up some coffee and a few groceries.

As I left the grocery store, it looked like three white crosses were hovering near the back end of my car, and I marveled at the sight. 

Of course they weren't crosses at all; as I got closer, I saw that they were, in fact, segments of fencing that were hanging off the back of a pickup truck.

But the sight still served as a powerful reminder that I'm supposed to live with the cross in plain view, regardless of my circumstances. 

January 9

Yep, the boys are holding what you think they're holding.

They took their school district-provided COVID tests this morning and both came up positive. So no school for them. My dream of a leisurely birthday morning at the Mother Ship and dinner out in two days won't come true. (Abby's test, for the record, was negative. She must have ninja immunity. Or she already had it and we didn't know. Or she's proof that vaccination can work well. I guess the truth there --whatever it is-- doesn't matter much.) 

Anyhow, after the extraction process was complete I stood there at the kitchen island watching the samples slide across the windows. I broke into a hysterical fit of laughter as Brady's test line immediately appeared and turned a dark, dark shade of red. And then I looked over at Isaac's test and although his line was much lighter, it too was definitely there. Because, you know, after the couple of weeks we've had, it just figures.

But ironically, oddly, strangely, I'm not mad. Annoyed? A little. Frustrated? Sure. But mad? Nope. Because it's all so utterly ridiculous that I can't be mad. I can only laugh. And, truthfully, I can drink my glass of prosecco and watch TV and crochet. 

Life is like this sometimes. God knows this is ridiculous, and my guess is that He's glad that I'm not upset. Pleased, I hope. I know He has good things in store for us, and that this is a rocky patch. But I'm still thankful for what was and what is and what's to come. And on days like this one... after weeks like the ones we've had... the act of having hope in the midst of lousy circumstances has to be good enough.

January 8

I keep starting this entry and then deleting what I've written because I don't even know how to begin to describe this day. I guess the easiest way to do it is to start at the beginning.

We got up, finished the Coca Cola puzzle we'd (okay, well, mostly Adam, but the rest of us had some assists) been working on at the dining room table (under the watchful eye of Fernando the snowman), finished packing, and said thank you and goodbye to my grandma. It's always bittersweet to leave; I usually teeter on the edge of tears thinking back on my time there and my childhood and all of those memories I hold close to my heart. What made our departure a bit easier, however, was the unexpected arrival of my Aunt Barbara, who'd come from the Eastern Shore to help grandma with some chores. Grandma didn't know that Aunt Barbara was coming so I was quietly thankful that she'd have a surprise visitor in the wake of our departure. I figure it has to be jarring to go from having five people around to being alone.

We drove to the airport with no issues, returned the car, and then things went downhill. When we initially picked up the car (at 3 AM on Christmas Eve) we were exhausted and eager to get where we were going, so we didn't go over it with a fine tooth comb. The next day as we drove to the store, I noticed that it was full of dog hair and smelled bad and said we should complain, but we were rushing around getting ready for Christmas, and then the next day we were Christmas-ing, and then the next day we were unexpectedly relocating to Bobby's house. Long story longer, we never did try to exchange it. So today when we turned it in, we got hit with a cleaning fee for the dog hair. Even though we don't own a dog, have never owned a dog, don't know anyone with a dog, and don't live in Maryland. I was infuriated. Then when we went through security, a TSA agent snapped at me for pushing the bags too hard on the belt (after she'd told me I wasn't pushing them hard enough), then I had a full pat-down (why? I have no idea. It was probably belt-lady's doing). And then we discovered that our flight was delayed and we'd once again be missing our connection, this time in Denver. They'd rebooked us on a later flight, but it was much later. Much, much later. And it meant that we would be reaching our ultimate destination after midnight... again. 

As I sat there by the window at the gate, my brain scrambled to process a lot of information: the never-ending delays, the negative experiences with the rental car company and at security, the melancholy triggered by our departure, the frustration over how thoroughly COVID has managed to take over and dictate so many aspects of life. And then something broke and it all felt like far too much to take and I cried. 

Fortunately, there were silver linings as the day wore on. Southwest decided that we were inconvenienced enough that we deserved travel vouchers. Then later, although our flight out of Denver wound up being more than an hour delayed (because we needed a good de-icing and apparently they'd already sent the de-icing trucks home for the night so we had to wait for one to come back -- seriously, what? They sent the trucks home? In Denver, where it's cold?), the kids were well behaved and patient while we slogged through our nearly five-hour layover. 

And then there was the serene, near-idyllic moment I caught as I looked over at the boys toward the end of our second flight. Although Isaac had the window seat, he'd put his arm around Brady and both boys were looking out at the city lights below. I was taken (for the umpteenth time) by their care for one another and after such a challenging day, it did my heart so much good.

So yes, that was today. I'm thankful for the time back east with my family and a few friends, and I'm thankful to be home.

January 7

It seems appropriate that as I sit here writing on the eve of our return flight to California, my entire family is camped out in the adjacent dining room of my grandma's house singing along to the John Denver hit "Take Me Home, Country Roads" (which was, as legend has it, partially inspired by a road in Maryland. But I digress).

It's been a bizarre trip to my home state, courtesy of flight delays and the ginormous COVID outbreak and snow. And it's required a tremendous amount of flexibility -- probably more than I could ever muster on my own strength. But still, even amid the challenges, it's been good.

Today was a slow one: with the exception of a late-after trip to Ledo for pizza by Adam, we hung around grandma's house all day long. It snowed again overnight (as the photo in the upper left connotes: I got up at 3 AM and padded out to the dining room to look outside and that's what I saw). When the boys saw the fluffy stuff this morning, they suited up in layers of clothing, grabbed a pair of shovels, and headed out to the driveway to... well, to shovel. With a small amount of success: It was windy and the snow was of the airy variety, so it blew here and there and to and fro, and even as they worked to move it out of the way, it seemed determined to relocate itself to its original locale. (Which was okay with Isaac and Brady.)

For my part, I mostly stayed inside and crocheted and watched grandma watch TV. I guess that sounds weird, but I can remember her crocheting and making stuffed animals for the babies at the hospital all those years ago in that very same room while I watched TV, so in my mind, the role reversal felt poetic. 

Anyway, after lunch and a few hours inside, the boys went out yet again, this time to make a snowman Brady named Fernando. And then there was the aforementioned pizza dinner, during which we somehow got on the subject of my upcoming birthday and how Adam put 43 candles on my cake last year, which prompted Adam to show my grandma a video of me blowing out said candles. (Hence the pic of her smiling in the collage. I like that picture; it feels genuine and real.)

So yes, that was today. It was yet another simple day in a string of simple days, but it was a good day that melded my past with my present. And I am thankful for the hours.

January 6

It was another low-key day. Adam worked from grandma's office, the boys played in the basement, and Abby and I went on a shopping excursion (during which I wowed her with my extensive knowledge of the area. As I explained, you learn your way around when you have a 45-minute, traffic-pocked drive to school each day.)

Anyhow, a short time after Abby and I got back, my mom returned with my grandma, who she'd taken out to run a few errands. As we all stood around in the kitchen, I summoned the boys to say hello and then handed Isaac my phone so he could take some photos.

And behold, four generations of women: Abby at 17, me at 43, my mom at 75, and my grandma at 99. 

None of us are what I'd call carbon copies of one another; although we share some traits (like a love for creating various types of textiles and an inclination toward worrying), we're all our own distinctive people with separate --and in some cases very different-- preferences and opinions. And I've definitely learned quite a lot about this life we share from each of them. So for the blessing of them, I am grateful.

January 5

There were two lovely parts of today.

The first was a meet-up with my very longtime friend Gretchen at the Damascus Mothership. We first met when we were about six years old, and although we've not always been in touch, we've been close for the past several years. She's been an amazing example of perseverance and bravery in the face of tough circumstances, and I am so proud to call her a good friend. Anyway, it was such a cup-filler to see her face and to have a few hours to just sit and talk.

The second was dinner with my mom. Since Adam had to work, the kiddos and I headed over to her house at about 5, and then we all left en masse for the Cheesecake Factory. We had a good time sitting and chatting and just being together as we ate. 

Hours and minutes spent with good friends and family are hours and minutes very well-spent, and I am thankful.

January 4

It was a mostly quiet day here at grandma's house. 

Adam settled in to the living room (and a little later, the office) to work, while we trickled into the kitchen one by one for donuts and coffee (well, Abby and I the latter. The boys are naturally caffeinated). 

Isaac and Brady then asked if they could go outside to play in the snow, and I said sure. So they scrounged around for coats and hats and gloves and trooped out to the backyard, where they dropped to their bellies and to taste the glistening snow. And made snow angels and played football using Isaac's beloved Slime Dog as the ball and had a generally grand time together in the 30ish degree temps.

Later in the day, I snagged Abby --who'd been reading for some time-- for a shopping trip. We hit the east coast iterations of a number of our usual west coast haunts, and she even got to scrape snow from the windshield after a chunk fell from the roof (oops). A beautiful sunset and a trip through the Roy Rogers drive-thru later (where I got my very own empty cup, which I got to go inside to fill using the fancy-schmancy soda machine), we drove back to grandma's, where we enjoyed another quiet evening. 

It was, all in all, a lovely day. A low-key day. I loved seeing the boys happily frolicking in the snow. I loved the time with my girl. And I loved the moment when, as Abby and I sat in the family room watching Dr. Phil with grandma, she turned to us with this bemused expression on her face, lifted her shirt ever-so-slightly, and exclaimed "guess what? I'm not wearing a bra!" (That's my grandma sometimes.)

Sweet moments. Funny moments. Pretty moments. Good moments. All blessings.

January 3

In the weeks leading up to our trip here to Maryland, Isaac fiddled with his phone during the ride from Brady's school drop-off to his own each morning to check the forecast for signs of snow. And each day, he was bummed to report that none appeared to be on the horizon. Although he was disappointed by the too-warm-for-snow temps and general lack of precipitation predicted, he stayed optimistic. It didn't look good, but it could still happen, he reasoned.

So yesterday we trekked around DC in 60-degree temps. And then today --because nothing about this trip has been normal-- the sun rose and a previously unexpected snowstorm barreled through. 

It was an unusual kind of weather event for the area, since it socked southern Maryland and Virginia with nearly a foot of driving snow and terrible road conditions while leaving the mid (where we are) and western sections of the state --which are usually the places walloped by storms-- with just enough of the white stuff to fill Isaac and Brady with glee.

Anyway, they headed outside during the late-morning hours and built a wee snowman, and then a little later, Brianna suited up in her winter gear to show them the sledding hill in the backyard. So I went outside for a short while --because it was 25 degrees out and I'm no longer a fan of that brand of chilly-- and watched them in action. I took in their smiles and their laughs and the way they seemed to fully experience the snow in a way that only a kid can: with complete joy. Brady was red-faced and clearly freezing in two pairs of pajamas and an open jacket, but he was having a fabulous time. And I loved seeing that joy.

The rest of the day? Well, I mostly finished the blanket I began on the flight here, and the kiddos enjoyed a few games of cards with their cousins, and we took a very quick walk (because again, the cold is too cold for our warm California blood). And then we packed up our bags and, since we've been well, we headed back over to my grandma's house. We had a nice stay with Bobby and Reaya and the cousins, but I know grandma missed having us around. We brought Ledo's pizza for dinner, and she was happy to welcome us back. The boys were happy to be back in the basement playing pool, Abby's happy to be in a room of her own, and I've been happy to watch a Hallmark movie and to watch my grandma laughing at an old episode of The Golden Girls from across the family room. 

So the moral of the story? Keep hoping, even when what you're hoping for feels like a pipe dream, because only God knows what's really in store for us.

January 2

We arose early(ish) this morning and hit the road for our day in Washington DC.

Traffic was Sunday light and it was surprisingly easy to find (free! Woohoo!) parking along the street near the National Archives and the FBI Building. And then we were off for some fleet-footed sightseeing in near-balmy 60-degree temps.

We walked along the National Mall which afforded numerous different vantage points of the National Monument. We also stopped at the World War II Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Vietnam War Memorial before swinging by the White House and the 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence Memorial (which I didn't even know was a thing until today) and taking a gander at the National Christmas tree.

We finished our DC time with a stroll through the National Museum of American History, where highlights included a bare-chested sculpture of George Washington, Abraham Lincoln's hat, the Ruby Slippers from "The Wizard of Oz," an interactive Price is Right game, and an exhibit about Route 66.

So here I am, post-Red Robin dinner, post glass of prosecco, mid-Sunday Night Football game, sitting with my brother, my daughter, and my nephew, half-listening to the din of their conversation about the Pants Gnome's pants as I type. I have more than 23,000 steps on my Fitbit and just about everything below my waist aches, but I'm content. And that's a blessing.

January 1

I'm not much of a resolution-maker, mostly because I don't think January 1st is the only time to decide to work toward being a better human being. I like to think that I'm doing that every single day, regardless of my circumstances or feelings or natural (read: oft selfish) inclinations. Just a thought I'm entertaining as we get settled into the new year.

We didn't have any plans so we didn't do a lot on this first day of 2022; just a quick mid-afternoon run to the nearby Mothership, dinner with my dad at a Mexican restaurant (and man alive, was there some dense fog during the drive! Reminded me of the times I drove home from dance as a teenager unable to see more than five feet in front of me), and then a rousing game of Class Struggle when we returned to the house after dinner. 

And now, I will do as I'm wont to do when I'm home and crochet as the others continue to play on the floor in front of me. I've been working on a blanket during my time on the east coast, and it's coming along nicely, stitch by stitch, row by row. Kind of like life -- stitch by stitch, row by row, it grows and takes shape according to God's design.