Rose scented soak in a claw foot tub (okay, so it's an 80 year old claw foot tub, but still!). Breakfast sandwich made by the beloved and served on a paper towel with a fresh cup of coffee on the side. A day ahead of me to do with as I please. The LaRue Crue (you know who you are!) flinging glitter, kicking ass, and buoying me up. The Cosmic Cowgirls. The Red Madonna. Friends who have no interest in cashing in on me in any way shape or form. Friends who send love letters *just because* they know I'm having a rough day. Red wine enjoyed in moderation (instead of used as medication). Stand-up comedy. Shopping for a Macbook with *my own money*. Hair that is now long enough (barely, but still!) to go up in a pretty clip. Pink. Purple. Glitter. A dog that does Jazz Hands whose name is also Jazz. A son whose troubadour nature makes me cry in proud and puffed-up-mama way. Another son whose intelligence leaves me with jaw hanging down around the vicinity of my ankles. A daughter in law who pushed through hard stuff with me and now calls me Mom (and now I'm crying). Another son whose own self-inquiry saved him from the hellish halls of addiction. A step-girly who studied hard all weekend and passed her history exam. And got a part-time job. And plays piano like an angel. A daughter who mirrors me, loves me unconditionally, and makes me happy simply by virtue of her being on this planet.

This is what I'm attending to today. You?

Love and Glitter,
Effy