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Country Mouse Monday: wait, what day is it?

My husband will confirm that the most common question I ask lately is, What day is it?

There used to be this sharp distinction between weekdays (dread, woe, misery) and weekends (relief, freedom, jubilation), but not so much anymore.

Every day now is awesome.

Every day is mine.

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why Fargo?

A week from tomorrow, I'll get on a couple of planes and head to Fargo, North Dakota for Misfit 2014.

People keep asking me, Wait, What's this thing you're doing? Why are you going to Fargo, again? 

Well, for a reunion with people I've never really met...

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Country Mouse Monday: the honey of everyday life

Are you ever so happy, so totally content, that it almost feels like an altered state, suspended outside of time, golden?

I used to have that feeling periodically, mostly on the weekends really, when I was parked firmly inside my own life, in my garden, at play in the dirt. Doing what I wanted, not looking at the clock, on my own time.

Lately, I'm eating that honey of everyday life by the spoonful.

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No strangers here.

A few weeks ago, Joe must have said something about strangers, or made some statement about something we were doing, like “if a stranger saw us, I wonder what they’d think about that.” To which I responded that I had no way of knowing, since

I don’t know any strangers.

I remembered this yesterday when I was having a cry over the untimely demise of Sticks, a baby goat, only the cutest baby goat ever, a baby goat I’d never met who lives/lived with a person I’ve never met. And yet we’re hardly strangers.

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As you know, I like a little morning ramble, and one thing I love about my neighborhood is that we’re just steps away from multiple paths into the woods.

The ramble, no matter which path we choose, takes us deep into the trees. Mostly this is all delight, but sometimes I end up, knees-quaking, on a trail that pushes my limits.

And sometimes, unexpectedly, I get to confront my inner narc.

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