Saturday Night

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It’s Saturday night. My husband took a break from painting our foyer to make me some tea. I had an epic battle with our threenager over her sleep or lack thereof. In the midst of a tantrum worthy of the best actress award, she woke up her one-year-old sister. Our youngest was eager to see what the fuss was about. After the kids went to bed for the second or third time I set out to make an epic to-do list.  Then it hit me, the Saturday night surprise.

Every now and then I surprise myself on Saturdays. Instead of diving into a barrel of wine, which used to be standard and is still occasionally a welcomed form of fun, I run to write. I literally get excited and overwhelmed with anticipation at the thought of alone time with my laptop.  Why? Because there is no greater goal than allowing time for what I love.

While I was away this week I played with the concept of fika. I went further than the surface and found there’s definite relevance in what I’m doing and it’s starting to stretch into places and people that I never imagined. Honestly, I had so much on my plate that it was starting to overwhelm me. But this week’s Saturday surprise is the gift of remembrance.  I started this endeavor for a few specific and special reasons and whenever I return to my roots, I am reminded of how much I can grow.

 

 

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