Alive

Uh-oh, schiz alert. I was kind of feeling sad and downtrodden a while ago (throw in a dash of jitter from that extra cup of joe I shouldn't have patronized), but now I'm all of a sudden feeling high and happy (and no, I didn't have ANY, thank you very much...blogging is still my substance of choice). I actually whistled my way to the kitchen as soon as I got home from work. I pulled out the slab of pork that I had thawing in the refrigerator, which I had zealously moved off the freezer before I took off for work this morning.  Suffice it to say, I've gotten my groove back.  I hope this seals the end of store-bought food which I've mercilessly subjected my household (a.k.a. hubby) to for the past three weeks. This time, he came home to a hot pot of homemade Pork Caldereta (spicy stew), made extra spicy because hubby always goes after the kick, with potatoes made extra soft because that's how he likes them too, and with an eternal spring of scrumptious sauce because he pours that over his steamy rice and sips it like soup sometimes.  Thank goodness we prefer the same stuff.

Life is good. I'm back to the daily grind -- the kind of grind that makes everyone smile.

Oh by the way, here are snippets from my friend's concert last weekend (too bad we couldn't take videos):



And yes, I'm blogging again because I blogged half-heartedly earlier in the day. And THAT AIN'T RIGHT. It's the perfect time to immerse myself back into the normal rhythm of things (the steady click-clack of keys on the  keyboard included) -- as hubby makes some loud and low neanderthal sounds or caveman-ish charades (on instances when he remembers to keep the noise down) while watching Monday Night Football next to me.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Howard Thurman