good morning, lovies

Good morning, lovies.

The rain is pattering on the roof. The air outside is white. Inside, candles are flickering, the fire is warm. The children are silent: the boy writing a thank you letter and the girl sewing a hole in her pants. Granola is toasting in the oven.

It’s my day off from writing. I had exciting plans to sleep in but I woke soon after five, my mind racing. Downstairs I made coffee and and then curled up on the sofa to talk with my husband. Kindly, he closed his book and listened to me.

For breakfast, sourdough pancakes, eggs, hot chocolate, whipped cream, more coffee.


Last week my older daughter left for Florida with her employer, and her employer’s horse and dog.

They’ll be there for a month, living in a camper at a barn; the employer will be taking riding lessons and my daughter will be helping out wherever. While I was chatting with her on the phone this morning, she got a text telling her to go pick coconuts.

I guess she’s not in Virginia anymore.


After years of reading about flaky salt, I finally bought some.

I can’t believe I waited so long. Sprinkled on cookies before baking, it’s a game changer. (Also new to my kitchen, caramel bits, yummm.)

More about both soon, pinky promise.


When my mom told me I needed to read In Shock by Dr. Rana Awdish, I ignored her for a bit — a book about a doctor turned patient didn’t sound all that fab — but she persisted so I finally checked it out of the library, promptly inhaled it, and then bought a copy of my own to boot. I want my older son to read it, since he’s interested in medicine, and my husband, too, and anyone else who interacts with the medical system. Which is everyone.

Nutshell: our approach to medical care is screwy. Doctors are pitted against patients. Patients aren’t seen as people. And this doctor, through her harrowing story, experiences these problems up close and then makes changes accordingly.

Read it.


This afternoon I’ll check my daughter’s math and make sure my younger son practices his music. I’ll write a chatty email to a friend and probably start another blog post. I’ll drink coffee and vacuum the floors.

Maybe I’ll take a nap, or maybe the kids and I will watch another episode of The Great British Baking Show, or maybe we’ll start a new read-aloud.

There will be potato soup for supper, and I’ll go to bed early.


P.S. One more thing: this music video from last summer’s Peru trip.

This same time, years previous: crispy baked hash browns, eight, gourmet chocolate bark, chai-spiced hot chocolate.


  • Lana

    All you have to experience is a loved one in a coma to know that patients are no longer people. I stood my ground for 10 days to keep my husband on life support and guess what, he woke up. They were not at all careful of exposing him to infection because hey he was going to die anyway. We are still dealing with hospital infections 13 months later. Enough said.

  • Lauralli

    This was great! I loved hearing about your day! Thanks for the book recommendation. My oldest son is in medical school and I just ordered it to send in his Valentine's box! He just finished When Breath Becomes Air which is similar in nature and he highly recommends. I'm so hoping and praying that he can view things from the patient's perspective when he is practicing medicine. I think this new generation of doctors coming up will do better about that than past generations.

  • Becky

    This was a fun post. I'm jealous of your quiet morning. Mine was more than it's usual hectic (appt with my husband regarding our house, before work this morning). Oh well. Such is life.

  • Margo

    I love this post!!! I should write a post like this – chatty, straightforward, WELL-WRITTEN (go you!), and full of the tiny, interesting details that I adore.

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