It is kind of cool to discover at the ripe old age of 56 that I've got an artistic bent.
I also have rediscovered the joy of reading in bed. Add a cup of brewed ginger tea and a little purring cat with golden eyes, and it is just about perfect.
There is something very soul satisfying about hearing a little boy in his footed pajamas heading upstairs to his bedroom calling "Gramma! Gramma! Come sit with me a liddie bit." I rub his back and we talk about his day. "Gramma, he says all nestled in his warm bed, "I happy." So am I, William.
Scrabble game pending with old friend to celebrate her 56th birthday Monday. Meeting up with another friend to show her a new antique store Friday. An e-mail to let me know that I'm elected to the board of the local Arts Council.
Every morning when I walk into work, I am greeted by a chorus of screaming voices: "Debby here, Debby here." I'm like a rock star in the world of toddlers.
Life seems chuck full of tiny joys lately. I'm very lucky.