I know there will be days/weeks when I don’t have anything specific to write about, but I’ve been enjoying our most recent conversation so much, I’m loathe to let it languish. So, here I am, cart before the horse (or, more accurately, keyboard before the concept), waiting to see what bubbles up between us.

As I puttered through last weekend, I kept wondering how or when I might share some of the things I was working on. Painting. Doodling. Stitching. Journaling. I did a little volunteer work, a lot of laundry, lit more fires and worked more than my share of crossword puzzles. There was no one thing worth writing about, just a collection of experiences that, combined, made for a pleasant couple of days. How does that become a blog post?

Still, the more I wrestled with whether or not to share these things, the more important this post became – again, not because of any one thing I have to share, but as an acknowledgement of the joy that can be found in the moments. So much of my writing for the last six years has been limited to days that were awful or days that were amazing . . . but the majority of life is what happens in between. Thus, here I am, reminding you (and me) that these moments are worth writing about, too.