Some Of My Favorite Things

I like to watch My Dearest Husband really concentrating on something he’s working on.  I love that look on his face for some reason.  It touches my heart every time.

Small kids and puppies always make me feel like whatever I’m doing is really interesting and important.  They follow me around and watch me intently, no matter what I’m doing.  If I’m taking out the trash, I feel like I should do it with the utmost care because they are watching and I don’t want to set a bad example.  This is why the puppies are NOT allowed in the bathroom.  I just can’t take the pressure.

The sun coming up in the morning is one of my favorite things.  Makes me feel good to know that the trusty steed made the journey safely through the night.

I like seeing the moon in the sky during the daylight hours.  It gives me the oobla dooblas.  You know what I mean?  Those cave man shivers over freaky things.

I like dusk.  That time of day after sunset but before it gets dark.  It’s an in-between time and it seems sort of magical to me.  There are possibilities in that little pocket of time that isn’t either one. 

I like the in-betweens.  Like birds and turtles and frogs.  They live in two worlds but not totally in either.  Land and sea or land and air.  And people in comas, or with amnesia.  There but not there.  Gone but not gone, here but not here.

I like the long, slow, hot summer days that seem like they will never end. 

I like chilly mornings with a hot cup of coffee, a nice warm throw, and MDH on the porch swing.  Dogs all lazy at our feet, the kids still asleep in their beds and us just enjoying each other in the quiet of the morning.

I like my guitar.

I like Phil, my iPod that I got for Mother’s day.

I like walking out back to visit Rocky, my mom, at her place.  I haven’t been able to visit my mom just whenever I wanted to since I was eighteen years old.  That’s a long time.

I like reading several books at one time.  That way, when I hit a slow spot in one, I can pick up another one. 

I like reference books.  I like school books.  I like history books.  I like fiction.  I like kids books.  I like soup cans.  I like cereal boxes.  I will read anything in print.  I used to read in my dreams.  I have no idea what  I was reading but I surely did read. 

I love the sound of children laughing.  I love the sound of them making plans.  I love the sound of them playing.  I even love the sound of them crying.  All of those sounds mean they are alive and that means there is hope.

I like firemen.

I like ambulance drivers.

I like watching my grandkids playing together when they think no one is watching.  That is true magic.

I like flowers and herbs.  I especially like the ones with more than one purpose.  I like the ones you can use for medicinal purposes.  In a past life (not the karmic kind, I mean when I was younger), I used to go out into the woods and gather them up and dry them out and use them on my family and myself.  It was way cheaper than going to the doctor and most of the time it worked as well as the fantastically priced chemicals they prescribed.  I still do that sometimes and I’m starting to get back into it a little bit.  They used to call me a witch doctor.

I love:

The smell of fresh cut grass.

The smell of a grill in summer.  You know something good is about to happen.

The smell of a lumber yard.  Sorry, I’m not quite that green yet.  That smell gets me every time.

I love a good story.  There is something about a well told story that just warms my cockles. 

I’m an oddball.  Ask anyone.  They’ll tell you.  I don’t eat seafood of any kind because it feels like cannibalism to me.  See?  Told ya!  But I’m a harmless oddball.  Anyway, those are a few of my favorite things.  Sorry but I don’t have the talent to set mine to music like that other person did. 

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One Response to Some Of My Favorite Things

  1. Pobept says:

    It is wonderful and amazing, what an old familiar smell can do to out child hood memories . The smell of fresh sawed wood and I think of my uncle he spent many hours repairing the church and of course would never except any money for what he had done. The smell of a feed store, I think of Grandpa and his Saturday trip to town to buy feed for grandma’s chickens. The smell of fresh baked bread or biscuits and my thoughts always turn to mother. Better quit here, I seem to have something in my eyes.

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