Grateful

Hey, You.

Yeah, You.

It's cold.

A bone-chilling, hiney-freezing seven degrees.

It makes me grateful for my Eeyore fleece pajamas and my sheepskin slippers.

It makes me grateful for the fireplace/wood stove in the living room that cranks out the heat while we watch Wall-E and eat hot wings and drink cocoa.  (and we have two teenage boys that make the trip to the wood pile so I don’t have to.)

I’m grateful my livestock are sprawled out in the floor.  One under the coffee table and the other grunting and chasing rabbits in his sleep.

I’m grateful for my flannel sheets and birthday quilt. 

What birthday quilt? 

 I have been remiss.

I only show you the hands.  And let it be known that the hands on the left and the right wrought this piece with love for the grateful hands in the middle.

...and yes.  It is on my bed not my wall.

So as the wind howls outside, I’m flanked by my men, I have a full belly, soft jammies, and my dogs at my feet.

I’m warm on the inside and the out.

It’s not so bad really.