I'm still around, yinz. Making a solemn vow to return on Monday to your regularly scheduled posting three or four times a week.
I mean it. I miss my nearly-nightly post-writing. The pecking sound as my fingers fly across the laptop keyboard... well, if that doesn't make for beautiful evening background noise, I don't know what does (except the hum of a dishwasher -- there is nothing better).
In the meantime, here are some small things currently making me happy.
My Thursday paper
I'm one of those old-fashioned weirdos who still enjoys the rustle of pages and the smell of real newsprint. The Stevenson household subscribes to a twice-weekly delivery of the paper: Sundays (duh) and Thursdays. The charm of a Sunday paper, fat with coupons and laden with editorials, is universally acknowledged. But that Thursday edition has a very special place in my heart. Do you know what I see when I glimpse the plastic wrap, all seafoam-hued and clingy, wrapped around my little paper as I walk down our steps on Thursday morns? I see the start of the weekend. I see that moment when you know what the weather will be like (or, this being Pittsburgh, can at least make an educated guess) -- the moment when plans fall into place, or get discarded in favor of two days of sweet, sweet nothing -- the moment when anticipation is bountiful and stress is minimal. That green package is a beautiful thing.
The Downton Abbey theme song
It's stuck in my head all the time, and unlike any other song ever composed, I want it to stay there. It's called "Did I Make the Most of Loving You," which is really a bit disappointing -- that title sounds rather prosaic, yes? But oh, those notes. In related news... after taking a "Which Downton Abbey Character Are You?" quiz, I may need to reevaluate my life. Though she is undoubtedly fabulous, I'm not sure I should be proud of this result...
You are the Dowager Countess of Grantham, Violet Crawley (Maggie Smith). You do not suffer fools gladly. In fact you do not suffer anything at all because you refuse to entertain any form of discomfort in your life whatsoever.
Black Cherry Sorbet
My heavens, this stuff is sinful. Seriously, go find it somewhere. Anywhere. We bought a cherry tree for our backyard partially in homage to this nectar of the gods.
Backstory: I wanted to buy a peach tree for our first anniversary, because peach trees are supposed to stand for marital bliss. Sadly, all the peach trees at Home Depot looked less than vibrantly healthy. So we went with cherry instead, which is supposed to signify prosperity. Perhaps we are more in need of that than an excess of love at this point.
Happy Friday, all!