home plate

I AM a blunderbuss. I guess, though, if I was drinking orange juice in bed, I was asking for it. It is laundry day.
I've been away for eight days, and I come back to hammers at my front door as the deck is torn up and replaced, and I come home clumsy and content and with wide open windows in my bedroom and a grateful sense of calm. I am stranded for the day, but I'm pleased to be so. I have so much of life and love added up in this last week, and it's nice to be home again and withdrawing carefully into my juice-sticky cocoon to think it all through.

Oh, I have loved this week.

I have been here:

with this guy:

and I have been very, very blessed.