Call me the mistress of the mutual admiration society. A card carrying, flag waving, allegiance pledging member of too many to count. You count. I’ll bet you count better than anyone in the world cause you are brilliant. As brilliant as I. As crunchly warm and slippery brilliant as two foods fated to merge, butter oozing deliciously into the crispy crevasses of toast. Brilliant.
For Valentine’s Day, taking note of a few of my lovablely favorite things:
My son’s non-relationship with perfectionism.
The spaciousness of the mind.
Winter, with the promise of spring and summer to follow.
The space between butter and bread.