~ Cotton candy clouds on a sunset walk
~ Crisp evening breeze in the warmth of a hot tub
~ Sweet syrah in a dixie cup
~ Plush bathrobe
~ Coming and going in our old Victorian B & B without a key
~ Clawfoot tub and vintage toilet (a Thomas Crapper invention...)
~Sleeping on a real mattress
~ Waking up to the scent of freshly baked muffins
On our way out of town, Saturday morning, we stopped in Lake Forest park for breakfast at one of our favorites, Honey Bear Bakery. Beside the register and peppered throughout the seating area were posters announcing an upcoming event that brought a delighted smile to my face: Goat days. Who knew such an event existed? Who even cares, for that matter, except the random few oddballs like myself who actually get a kick out of seeing hundreds of goats eat weeds and clear blackberry bushes? I took a picture and wrote it down in my journal.
Father's day morning, I woke up chuckling. In the final minutes of my morning slumber, Papa had made a rare guest appearance in my dream. I don't recall much about the dream, except when he showed up, waiting in the hallway for my sister and I to finish getting ready to leave somewhere, I announced, "Look, he's wearing jeans that fit!" Acid wash jeans that fit snug around his backside, faded and hip, with straight legs, not too baggy.
Sometimes, it's the most random gifts that hit home.