I need to write something.  I’m just not sure what.  Life is so odd and living it is a mystery in itself.

I thought I may write a post about the advantages of living in a small house.  Only, that would be a short post because the only positive I’ve found is I can vacuum the entire dwelling without moving the power cord.  You have to admit, that is a bit impressive.  In a slightly depressing way.

A longer post would be the disadvantages of living in a small house.  Only, that would be depressing too.

I thought about writing a post about winter in Texas and how glad I am it doesn’t snow here.  But, everyone who lives in Texas has already written about that.

I thought about penning my thoughts on teenagers and cell phones and the complete and total idiocy they should ever be granted one.  I may still write that, but for now its hitting close to home.  We’ll just say our only resident teenager no longer has a phone.  And won’t until he is 43, and that will be long shot.

I could write about Wal-Mart.  But that makes me angry.

I considered for .1285 seconds writing about football.  But I know NOTHING about it, therefore I’ll spare you.

You’re welcome.

Coffee.  Now THERE is something I know about.  The lovely, dark liquid sending its fragrance to me each morning while I lie in bed.  (I guess that is the second advantage to the small house.  The coffee pot is 6 steps from my bed).  My favorite part of the day arrives about 6:45.  The teenager is off to school.  The smallest human is still abed.  And I roll out of my warm nest, in rumpled, striped pajamas that have seen better days.  I shuffle my 6 steps into the kitchen where my husband, who is already showered, shaved and dressed, greets me.  “Go sit down, honey.” He says.  “I’ll bring your coffee to you.”  I curl up on the end of my fluffy sofa, wrap the throw my grandmother gave me around myself with expert precision and extend 2 grateful hands.  My husband will often announce my cup of the day, chosen of course, by him.  “Today, you are the Fairy of Winter.” He may say.  Or perhaps, “Look, today you are the Poppy Fairy.”   No matter what fairy or magical creature I turn out to be, he makes sure I have plenty of re-fills while we sit together and talk about our plans for the day, how we slept, any dreams we may have had, sleeping or awake.  Thus my day begins.

Heck, I guess I found something to write about after all.

And today happens to be our 8th wedding anniversary.

I love him.

Taken at elk camp, 2 years ago. My favorite picture of us.