- other peoples’ early morning rants about crocs (the shoes, not the creatures).
- falling in love with a cookie.
- nice cops who don’t berate me.
- a fridge full of blueberries.
- the way someone’s face lights up when you tell them good news.
Tag: food
grace in small things. 172 of 365.
- the slinky walks of Siamese cats.
- crows who drop mussels on the road and pick the meat out of the broken shell.
- the row of blueberries lined up in the crack of the sidewalk.
- cancelling plans so that I could have a night to myself.
- quiet.
grace in small things. 167 of 365.
- the word “frangipane” especially when you say it quickly and repeatedly.
- $3.99 breakfast.
- finding the coolest wall paper ever.
- crafternoons.
- finally getting around to doing the apartment stuff I’ve been planning since I moved in a year ago.
grace in small things. 163 of 365.
- the two old women watching the very attractive and very fit man washing windows without a shirt on.
- remembering that working out is hard and politely declining when invited to join a fitness boot camp in the park, unlike my friend who is going to regret saying yes for many, many days.
- cats who make you look foolish.
- eating sushi and watching weeds.
- picking out a bouquet of flowers that you know someone is going to love.
grace in small things. 162 of 365.
- blueberry pancakes.
- the man who turned his bike helmet into a wide brimmed hat with a circle of cardboard.
- the anticipation of my five day art-making vacation.
- my ravenous consumption of books.
- fountains made from the heads of gary larson cartoons.
grace in small things. 135 of 365.
- monks in saffron robes and baseball caps.
- designer chocolates with intricate and delicious patterns painted on them.
- blueberries.
- being thisclose to getting my finances in good shape.
- my coughing fits, because while they are annoying to me and everyone within a ten block radius, they do wonders for my abs.
grace in small things. 33 of 365.
- saying I wanted three of the cookies my friend made and then actually eating seven and not feeling guilty about it.
- not only avoiding judgement from the aforementioned friend, but also being told to take home more cookies for later.
- cookies for supper
- non-judgy friends who bake cookies and like to share.
- the container of cookies that is patiently waiting to be devoured tomorrow.
violetdiaries 