Bliss

We sat companionably in silence as we enjoyed our Sunday night ritual. You were reading in one armchair as I sat also reading in the other, just across the small end table from you. Slightly hunched over the book in my lap as I sat sideways in my chair, the wide neckline of my sweater gapped away from neck and back. You stretched an arm across the table, laying your fingers over the top of my shoulder and lightly rubbing your thumb in a circle against my spine.

I lowered my head a little further, trying to encourage you. If I were a cat I would’ve purred but with my roommates in the common room with us, I was too shy to tell you that I was enjoying it and I knew I would break the contact if I turned my head to smile at you.

After just a couple enjoyable minutes, you pulled your arm away and the silence between us continued--the one moment of bliss better for never being analyzed or discussed.

Domestic goddess

This apron may not be red, white and blue, but it would have been a fitting accessory for my fourth of July--I cooked scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast, assembled chicken salad and cheese sandwiches for lunch, cut veggies, made potato salad--my family mistaken believed it might be okay to buy some until I corrected them--and I frosted our easy version of this cake.

If you'd like to dress like a domestic goddess, you can enter to win the above apron or use the code from that post to get 10% off.

Singing grace

There are certain holidays each year that we celebrate with my dad’s family, the family that is too close to be described as extended but it would confuse other people if I described them as immediate family. As I’ve grown up I’ve learned that this closeness and these traditions aren’t “normal”.

Apparently most families don’t sing “God Bless America” every year before they sit down to hamburgers and hot dogs on the 4th of July. Every year my grandfather would start the family singing that song, despite the fact that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. After my grandfather died, the responsibility fell to my mom.

So this year my mom will lead our cacophony of voices in "God Bless America" and I will be proud that we aren't your normal family.