A slice.

After an entire day of showing off my wedding ring yesterday, I came home feeling happy and proud. I am a wife! I am happy and also, go-lucky!

I decided to come home and get right to work on my tasks for the next day – making a salad, making a sandwich, and otherwise getting my lunch ready.

Let me just state for the record that I hate big lettuce pieces. They always fold up on the way into my mouth and get salad dressing all over everything. Rather than eat my salad with a knife, I slice the lettuce into strips and then cut the strips in half. I love my lettuce like this, and it means salads are neat to eat.

Imagine, if you will, that your finger could have something you would call the upper right corner. This is where I got served my slice last night – on my ring finger. I cut off my fingernail and took a nice little slice out of my actual finger in that little upper right corner.

Today, if I show off my ring, it will look like I didn’t just get a new ring, I got a whole new finger… the finger of a ten-year-old boy. The nail is shorter than the shortest possible length, if you know what I mean. And let’s not get into the giant skin flap.

I never did claim to be graceful.

Progress

Mr. Thor is away on business. Well, as business as one can be while at CES. I am sure he will be Mr. Business, since he is in Vegas for 8 days without his better half.

I don’t worry about Mr. Thor. He does his thing, and his thing is being awesome and amazing. That’s good enough for me.

I worry about me. I don’t like the dark. I don’t like being alone at night. I don’t like walking up the stairs with a dark house behind me.

I know, I know. These are the problems of a five-year-old, and no matter how hard I try to not be afraid of the dark, I just… still am. At least a little.

Mr. Thor actually stands in the dining room and leaves the light on until I get halfway up the stairs. Then he turns the light off and follows me up the stairs, so that I know I am safe with him behind me.

I can hear you throwing up from here, you know. He is  really that sweet. Even when I tell him not to wait for me, he does.

That was not supposed to be the point here today. The point, my lovelies, is that tonight, when I walked out to my car at 5:30pm in January? I was greeted by this:

It doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant you that. But to me it is hope. It is the beginning of the light at the end of the tunnel. The beginning of the end of having my headlights on at 5:30pm. The beginning of the end of a completely dark and cold one hour car ride home.

It’s not dark. It’s just… dim.

Sunday Afternoon

This afternoon, as I pretended not to be interested in Mr. Thor’s football game, I engaged in a diversion.

Peanut butter cookies and football. Who knew they could be so perfect together?

Savannah Tea Company

I love the low, muted clatter of a teacup on a saucer as I hold it in my hand, trying to keep it steady. This morning I pulled down my only teacup and my only saucer to make myself some Earl Grey tea. I don’t use the teacup on a regular basis. Actually, until July, it was packed away in the box it came in – a gift box that I received over three years ago on my 30th birthday. Until today, it has never been used.

The teacup is absolutely beautiful to me. I have never been one for girly designs or dainty and delicate things. I don’t like flowered patterns or china. But one fateful day, when I was living in Nashville, something happened to me that changed the way I felt about teacups, at least.

A Saturday lunch date with a dear friend of mine, L took a turn for the divine. We decided that, rather than just go for any lunch, we should go to the Savannah Tea Company for a full tea. I have never had a tea of any kind, other than a cup of tea, so I had no idea what to expect.

It was wonderful. Scones, clotted cream, jam, finger sandwiches, soup… and it was all presented with such care. Everything was lovely, down to the shape of each finger sandwich. Eating made me feel like I was participating in an art project. Every bite was magical. Every sip of tea was smooth and golden.

And my teacup. Oh dear.  My teacup. It made me swoon. I loved the intricacy of the pattern. The color. The shape. Honestly, I thought that if there was ever a perfect teacup made, then I was holding it, drinking from it, and admiring it.

isn't that the most perfect blue?

And I can’t even talk about the creamer.

My dear friend L, noticing my enthrallment, returned to the Savannah Tea Company after our tea and bought me the cup and the creamer for my 30th birthday.

And this morning I decided that I had looked at the teacup I have had on display since July one day too many. Life is short, my friends. I want to use the beautiful things I have, not simply look at them. I want to pull down my beautiful teacup and feel the happiness I felt on that enchanting day at the Savannah Tea Company in Nashville. I want to remember the way my eyes welled with tears when I opened the gift from my dear friend, L on my 30th birthday.

I want to remind myself, even on this small scale, what it is like to be overcome by beauty, overwhelmed by the intricacies of life, and overjoyed at being known well.