Thanks to Leftovers

Thanksgiving leftovers are in my opinion better than the real thing, especially since I started getting two Thanksgiving dinners every year, Jason's dad's on Thursday and Jason's mom's on Saturday. Now I can eat the best of each meal for however long they last. I just have a love for comfort food and we don't mind leftovers at all. It's one of our best similarities, we are not picky eaters. It was Jason's birthday today and I did promise him pizza, but when we looked at all the leftovers we couldn't resist eating that for dinner tonight. I promise lovey, I will get you pizza as soon as the leftovers run out.

Happy Birthday Jason!! I love you!

Our Farmer's Market

Farmer's Markets are the best. We have one of the best ones in the area across the street from us every Saturday morning. I want to get there today before everything is cleared out, so I will have to keep this short. You can get personally grown fruit and vegetables, local coffee and pastries, homemade soaps, and so much more. A lot of local artisans will have stands too, selling their hand-made crafts and jewelry. It's a way to get to know the folks in the area and really feel like you're contributing to the community. It can be a bit crowded, lucky for us parking is never an issue. The Waverly Farmer's Market is a top five reason why I love our neighborhood, now I just have to come up with four others.

Saturday Mornings

I wake up.  Not to an alarm.  Not to any pressing engagements.  I wake up when my body is ready.  Or not.  In that moment, when you first open your eyes and realize that there's absolutely nothing stopping you from closing them again, that moment is bliss.

Saturday mornings are the crown prince of arbitrary time divisions.  Friday nights are a very close second, like the bastard brother of Saturday mornings, tainted only by the fact that they follow directly after a full work day.  And I haven't experienced this yet, but I suspect the King of waking daily segments would be the first Monday morning after retirement.  That is the Emperor of Mornings, a messiah to your misspent work hours.  I would imagine.

For now I'm happy with Saturday mornings.  It's not like the other six are all that bad.  Sunday is much like Saturday, although with a bitter punch line.  And Monday through Friday, while bothersome, have their charms.  Ultimately, I think all six of them exist as a foil for Saturday morning.  That moment, lying in my bed, relishing your freedom, is made possible only by contrast.

Only three more days to go.