My Favorite

For some reason, this past week has been particularly exhausting. Maybe the Santa Anas really do hold some sort of inexplicable sway over behavior, and my students' mood swings and rowdiness can be attributed to a solar disturbance or an imbalance in the ratio of positive to negative ions in the air. Or maybe they are just teenagers who are high in energy and low in attention span. Whatever the cause, they were in rare form this week and I was off my game...never a good combination.

In any event, the fact that the last hour of my day at work was spent supervising a "spirit assembly" wherein 2600 students spend fifty minutes screaming, shouting, and pounding their feet, combined with my general state of fed-upedness with all things school related, created an intense desire to ignore all adult responsibility and enter a vegetative state to the soothing sounds of Dr. Phil immediately upon my return home. Don't judge - this week I had a student ask me,  "Which goes first, the period or the question mark?" Think on that for a minute...he wasn't aware that it was an either/or kind of situation. So, yeah...Dr. Phil taking a self-declared "spoiled princess" to task for stealing ten grand from her grandma? It was a healthier alternative to chemical mind numbing agents.

I realize this sounds like a lot of bitching for someone who is supposed to be focusing on gratitude, but the fact that I could collapse on the couch in front of mindless television secure in the knowledge that I would still eat dinner, made it very easy for me to decide what I am most thankful for today...

I have a husband who likes to cook. Yay!

{Bonus-he cooks topless!}

 

Not only does he cook, but he's also incredibly patient. He tolerated literally forty-seven underexposed, blurry, poorly composed shots like this one --

It wasn't until shot forty-eight that I got this face -

{Apparently, I avoided turning to booze, but I drove my husband to drink.}

In addition to being a talented and willing chef, Tom is also wonderfully non-judgey. Even when I am a whining, self-pitying, Dr. Phil-watching, misanthrope who takes crap photos and lives in sweatpants, he still manages to love me. Or...at least he fakes it until I get my act together. And that is obviously something to be thankful for.

Plus - he looks super handsome in old timey pictures and he writes songs for me. What more could I ask for?

Amazing how a less than stellar week can make you all the more grateful for the very bright spots in life...