WHAT is the NAME of that GAME?! Grrrr.

I am grateful for moments to sit on a patio chair in the driveway and watch the moon show and listen to crickets and katydon’ts.

I am grateful for surprise conversations with Delores when she’s in my Dad’s cell phone.

I am grateful for a text picture of beautiful Parker after her soccer game.


I am grateful for a new unique tree to watch grow.

I am grateful for the sound of a dog dreaming.

I am grateful for store owners who let their pets be a part. I remember a cell phone store in Weatherford that was home to a pet duck. Funniest pet.

I am grateful for memories of family togetherness with a slide show on the wall. I always wanted to run the projector so we could hurry through the fires/car wrecks/airplane pictures and get to the funny people pictures. And I loved the sound of the clicking to the next picture.

I am grateful for my daughter who never ceases to amaze me at her creativity in taking pictures, learning photography on her own and turning it into a business, and her energy abundance:

I am grateful for memories of a board game we used to have that I want to find again, if only I could remember the name of it. It was like checkers, except that the game pieces were like little white cups and the color you chose was hidden inside the cups, so you moved your pieces across the board like checkers but you couldn’t check to make sure you were moving the right piece until you got to the other side. It’s gonna drive me NUTS until I think of the name of that game.

I am grateful for my niece Rachel. She’s 18 today, and Dad and I get to see her play softball one last time…

I am grateful for Altoids cinnamon curiously strong mints. That description is an understatement.

I am grateful that my happiness does not hinge on a Royals win.

I am grateful that the weekend is going to be crazy full.

And finally, I am grateful for this heart-stirring blog post written by Beth Woolsey that I read this morning. It reminded me once again that I do not know what goes on behind closed doors, that there is more to the story than what I see or what the face shows, that until I have walked in their shoes, I have no place to assume or judge, and that stuffed animals are very important and should be treasured. Take a minute to read and smile, or read and cry, or both.

On the things I don’t tell you.


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