This porridge is just right.

One year ago today we stepped into our house for the very first time, and I still remember how nice it felt to say, “This is our house” after spending months exploring houses that were NOT our house. (I believe it’s very important to be Goldilocks-esque while searching for a place to live. I wore my blonde wig and blue dress very proudly during the three month hunt, and would sometimes not even step into a house before declaring that it was NOT our house. Our realtor was so patient.) Less than six weeks later, we placed an owl on the mantle, smudged some sage to clear out any negative energy (and give off a slight Freedom Rock vibe), and put the blue canary in the outlet by the light switch. All is well, despite the fact that someone left a fresh bag of dog poop in our front yard a few weeks back. Because a neighbor down the street had a similar bag of dog poop in their yard, I wrote the whole thing off as an interesting communication error.

Stop talking about the Harper Lee book! Stop it! My copy will be arriving in the mail on Tuesday and I feel like I need to lie down in an 80% sensory deprivation tank until I’m able to turn the final page. Fingers in ears and eyes and la la la la la la la…

We purchased a set of fabric markers a few weeks back, which means it’s never not time to mark up some fabric. Last night Meredith and her friend marked up some shoes.

Harper and her friend marked up a few t-shirts.

I marked up nothing, but I did accept a freelance job, meaning the job hunt I mentioned earlier in the week can sit in the corner and stew for a little bit longer.

Good things. Lots of good things. And one of them involves dark chocolate with pressurized carbon dioxide and chipotle pepper.

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