So. Yesterday.

Yesterday Billy and I had no solid plans. We are still winding down in our hearts and minds from Africa.. and he had been working in Indiana all last week. We just wanted time to "be". So he took the kids to school in the morning and I cleaned up around the house a little. Totally normal stuff. I noticed that NotWilson had shed but needed to soak a little so I took him over to get the soak bucket out of Clover's cage and to the bathroom to fill it up with clean water before closing him inside for the day. Then Billy and I took off an a walk.
We decided to walk over to Real Food for breakfast. So we set off.
And we talked.
It was wonderful.
Having three kids and a house doesn't always lend itself to long talks.
But for two miles, we held hands and talked.
About Africa. About our lives. About our kids. About our dreams.
It was cold... in the 50s with a chillly wind.
But we were together. Walking to breakfast. Talking.

Who knew Real Food is actually closed on Mondays?

So we laughed and turned ourselves North to continue our walk up to Marie's.

We continued talking. We talked about Donald Miller who had spoken at church yesterday (fabulous! Go buy his books!)
We talked about going camping in a few weeks.

We talked about how my ears were so cold I was hurting all the way into my jaw. We talked about how funny it would be if we walked into Marie's all cold and red with windblown hair and snot dripping down our frozen faces and there was somebody cool sitting at a table having breakfast... like Donald Miller and Rob Bell... and there we would be looking like we were just run over with a zamboni.

It is a long way from Real Food to Marie's.

We finally made it (all in all, we realized we walked 8 miles to get breakfast yesterday).
We ordered hot chocolate and fresh squeezed orange juice and an omelet.
Just before our food came, Donald Miller came walking through and said "Hey, goodmorning!" and we asked "Are you here alone?" and he said "No, Rob and I are having breakfast together in that other room there."

Yes, I'm serious. That really did happen.

I walked home in my sock feet because I had developed blisters along with that drippy snot on the walk over.

We held hands. We laughed. We talked.

Later we went to the farm to pick up milk and cheese for the week.

We collected the kids from school and did homework together and met some friends for dinner.

The boys (not the little boys mind you) started throwing napkins which somehow escalated into corn tortillas. I saw Christy throw one too... (I did Christy, I saw you).

We laughed and talked and ate. I had a coke with grenadine.

We came home and were putting the kids to bed when I noticed Clover's cage was wide open.

Wide. Open.

From before breakfast, before the long walk, before the nap, before the farm and homework and dinner. From first thing in the morning when I got the soak bucket out for NotWilson.

Wide Open.

And there was Clover... curled up as happy as could be on her floor of wood shavings (actually, under her floor of woodshavings... but that his her own silly story).

All day she could have gone exploring, but she slept through it.

Somewhere in that there is a lesson about sleeping through life and missing adventure. I'm not going to unpack it right now though. She's safe. I gave her a little squeeze and closed the cage up tight.

I went to the store to buy strawberries for a couple of milkshakes.

There are some years when I want a more dramatic anniversary filled with dancing and flowers and decadant sweets...

but you know what... I think yesterday was pretty close to perfect.