raindrops on roses

Tom has wholeheartedly embraced the new food storage containers. He’s practically giddy.

Our lives improve every time Tom gets completely exasperated. When the rabbit ears fell off the TV in a tangle of wires set for the eight gazillionth time, we finally got cable. When our oddball collection of food containers toppled out of the cabinet onto him for the seventeen gazillionth time, I bought new food containers. Tom has forgotten his look of dismay when I opened my trunk and revealed the giant box of food storage containers. Now, he’s a big fan. I am satisfied but still feel guilty about my callous rejection of our old food storage containers. Are we worthy of snapwear?

I’m going to get sappy with Steve Blow, whose column today are what he calls “pet delights.” I would have been more predictable and called them “pet pleasures” but I’m overly-fond of alliteration. ("Delights" is a newspaper word. Like "sumptuous." And "abounds." If it weren't for newspapers, those words would be obsolete.)

Plus, I have to quibble with Steve assurance that we’ll all know the joys of grandchildren some day.

I like the idea anyway. Counting life's little pleasures is like counting your blessings, but less smug.

Steve says being “in for the night” is good one. I know exactly what he means. My own version of that is those mornings when I wake and realize I have work to do and no pressing need to leave the house. I can fall into my own little routine of oatmeal in the morning, walking Jack at 3, and moving to the couch in the late afternoon, for tea and British reality shows and writing. Delightful.

Jack’s back feet are a pet pleasure.

My Thanksgiving Day walk is a pet pleasure. Our tradition is to cook at home and have people over but I always manage to fit a long aerobic walk amidst (another newspaper word) the cooking and baking. It’s a highlight of my day. (Along with the National Dog Show, which is an inspired new Thanksgiving TV tradition.) Today is balmy and bright and families in the neighborhood were loading pies and kids into their vehicles, tossing footballs on the lawn, sitting out on their patios. Holiday is definitely in the air and I feel fine.

Getting a sleeve set in right when I sew is a pet pleasure. Every time I do it and it doesn't look like crap, I get to feel a little bit proud of myself.

Afternoon sunlight is a pet pleasure. And Texas sunsets...well, I've waxed poetic about those too many times here. You know how I feel.

I have much to do before guests arrive so I will leave you to consider your own pet pleasures. Happy Thanksgiving and all that.