Casey and I 

Casey and I are having a nice Friday evening together.  A little Hanks-Ryan rom-com a la You’ve Got Mail, a little dinner, a little something to drink ….

Casey is my sister’s cat. I thought I should get there before I mentioned the petting that’s also going on.  Read more of this post



Thursday-feels-like-Tuesday. Gray morning. Colorless, no light. Just gray, drizzly, sleepy. 

Maybe it’s just me that’s sleepy. 4:55am comes early, and it’s a shock to the system after so many horizontal days. 

I’m back to the office after 2 weeks working at home. Two and a half, now that I think of it. I came back from Wilmington the day after Father’s Day, through a torrent, with a faint hoarseness already turning into Yuck. And that was that. 

Now it’s just the residual cough, my voice still not quite whole, miscellaneous aches. But better, better enough to work, to exist unmedicated, to drive. Even in a fresh torrent today. 

Safely to the office in the gray of the morning. Prayers for safety. Not my own, but still He watches over me. I ask and I trust, He’s watching over my sweet girls. They’ll be in His perfect care today. Theyvalways are, because He’s always perfect. He’ll be guiding those who are guiding them and the other kids. Do not worry. 

I am prone to worry, I must confess, even though He shows Himself faithful over and over and over. 

My prayer list is long this morning. Friends in struggles I am helpless to resolve. My heart goes out, my prayers go up. My day begins. 

Behind my house

Behind my house, above the splash of the fountain and the soft glow of solar lights, the sky is turning to indigo and mauve shades in the fading light of day. A soft beauty, punctuated periodically by resounding thuds that foretell a flash of light and color in the sky. I watch the fireworks from my window. Happy Birthday, America. God bless you.

Wants small and great

I want…

  • to stop coughing already.
  • something yummy for dinner (and having an appetite again is a good thing).
  • to hug my sweet girls across the miles. Read more of this post

Common cold

Words have been few, and steps have been few, and sleep has been spotty, but of coughs I have plenty. Hoping the end of this cold is in sight. 

Excuse me. It’s my lunch break and I’mahafta lie down a bit. 

Table for three

Rain or no… Just missing good times with good friends.

A dash of a morning

A smidgen startled by the alarm, a speck under the weather, a wisp of a sore throat, a touch of cinnamon and cayenne in my coffee, a mite tired on the road, a hint of sunrise color in the sky, a sliver of a moon overhead, a small herd of cows resting beside Route 155, a tad sunblinded crossing the Hatem bridge, a bit of traffic along the way, a little wistful for those I miss. 


First time my friends came down to visit, first time to that winery, (for some) a first wine tasting, and my first pedicure. 

Lots of firsts. I hope, first of many!

(Love you guys!)

A knock at the door?

The dream ends abruptly.  The knock is clear, crisp. It doesn’t repeat though I am still, listening. 

The dream is gone. Work? Something else? Nope, nothing, gone. Only the knock. 

Still listening. Was it real? Could I have dreamed it? 

It didn’t signal arrival, but it was perfectly incorporated. That’s all I can recall now. 

Straining, no unfamiliar sounds inside or out. 

4am. I get up. No signs of life out front. It seemed too loud, too close for that door, on second thought, though I couldn’t not have checked it. I ponder the other doors, and the sound. It was crisp. Knuckles on glass? I don’t want to check the other doors. No broken glass sounds followed, certainly. On wood I decide, an indoor sound. 

A dream, then? Who would break in and then knock?

Unsettled. Too early for sunrise. Yesterday’s was unendingly beautiful, accompanied by a nearly full moon still high in the sky, dancing with the clouds.

And with that thought, I think I’ll retry sleep. 

Revisited: at 6:30am there was also not really someone ringing the doorbell. 

Morning mercies 

Dry morning means shorter dry-time for my hair means out the door that much earlier means still lovely color in the sky as I leave means the sun first glowing then blinding when the road is East rather than North (or in one brief and strange section, South). 

Dry morning does not mean dry night, my car wet with dew, laden in moisture, reminding me that there are days – days past, days to come (God willing) – when morning will be cold and the car will need scraping in these early departure hours when I feel most rushed. Thankful for spring-into-summer, for warmth, for light, for wipers that work. For mercies great and small. 

 Slow realization on arrival that if it’s Wilmington it’s Thursday and if it’s Thursday it’s a week to house guests and happy reunions. One more reason to smile through this day.