4.17.2011

"delight" is the word best used to describe my life.

I'm currently enjoying the last bit of a big quart bottle of Bolthouse Farms fruit smoothie. I kid you not, for the last four days, I've survived on fruit juice, bananas, pie, cottage cheese & tomatoes & salsa, and a midnight pizza with Sarah. Oh and delicious Martha Stewart bridal shower cookies.  I don't know where my appetite has disappeared to but hey, at least it's healthy stuff, right?
However, I just gotta say, I have spoken with more people I love in the last four days that I have in the last four months. And it's been absolutely delightful.  Especially today, where I went from a blanket in the park with Sarah, to gardens, to a door opening to an old brother-friend, to Adam, ever the sharer of goodness.

A love map of my destinations and joy on this sunny Sunday:

Madre: I'm so glad that the colors for the wedding are very "in" at Anthro.

Sarah: Even a mere thirty minutes on a blanket at the park was a glimpse of what the summer is going to hold.

Jay: Gardens! We went carefully over each planned plot of his square-foot garden and smelled handfuls of  soil. Earthy goodness.

Jeff: Wasn't expecting your face when I knocked at the door but nothing could beat our kitchen table chat. 'Cept I'm kind of heartbroken that your gap is gone. It was so endearing.

Adam: "Can you stay another 7 minutes?...Can you stay another 25 minutes?" It's such a delight how Adam shares the things he loves. Especially when he takes the 15 minute route in the car so we can listen to the whole song. And laugh in pleasure ("Ah! He just did that! Amazing!") at all the best parts.

Joe & Grace: Words cannot even describe how excited I am about this union.


Postscript: Just opened another quart juice bottle and made it halfway through while typing. This has quite possibly become a juice addiction.

Postscript 2: Thank you. And believe me, it's true what they say about humility. It does allow you see better the beauty that's all around you. There is hope smiling brightly.

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