The good stuff

Sometimes when I feel like I am way too overwhelmed to deal with another moment of my crazy life, and I climb into the bath tub with a glass of wine and a book (thinking that I may never venture out of the bathroom again), I am completely surprised by how easy it is for my boyfriend to get me out of my funk. He may not be the most eloquent person, or well traveled, or well read...but he knows me better than I know myself. He talks me out of being crazy, can almost instantly stop me from crying, and is constantly there to listen to me whine about whatever small problem lay in the way of my day. I am amazed by the way we just fit together. Me, with my mile-a-minute whirlwind of thought and talk and dreams and craziness....and him with his ever calm and thoughful sense of reality. He grounds me, and he keeps me sane. This is what I love.

I spent Sunday in the midst of a family that I adore. So unlike my own. Its a giant conglamorate of people from farmers and hunters, to lawyers, to teachers and nurses, to cuddly, mushy, happy babies. In the chaos of dogs, and kids, and breakfast coming and going, there is this incredible sense of peace and love that completely envelopes everyone in the house. Its a feeling that is rare and wonderful and I cannot imagine living without. There is this sense of belonging, whether you have been a part of the family for five years or five minutes you are welcomed with open arms. There aren't many places that accepting in this world.