My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses

And whiskers on kittens

Brown copper kettles

And warm woolen mittens

You know that song from The Sound of Music. The famous one that has somehow become associated with Christmas, even though the only mention of anything remotely related to that holiday is the mention of brown paper packages tied up with strings. I was thinking about that song today and it got me to thinking about my own favorite things. Those things in the song are all nice, very well and good. But mostly not my favorite things, if I were to have to name them. So let’s go. Let’s name our favorite things. I’ll name mine, you name yours.

Mugs

Blankets

Tea

Books

Lists

Pictures of friends

Weddings

Dogs

Trees

Flowers

Water

Fire

That spot right in the middle of a man’s chest where your head fits perfectly

Hugs that demand all of your soul

Music

Words

Baking cookies for friends … and strangers

Reminding someone that Life really is Beautiful

Dancing to make people laugh

Singing really really loud

Gifts made by friends

Color

The weighty presence of a loved one right next to you

Sunrises

Laughing with someone until you cry or it hurts

That pair of jeans that makes you feel good no matter what

Black & White cookies

These are a few of my favorite things.

Cor Anglais

This just in. The City of Birmingham (in England) is having principal English horn auditions. New goal: Get an English horn STAT, fly to England, take the audition and FIND HB!

Alright kids. Get on this prayer thing.

I'm only half-joking here.

Extended Stay

I am proud and humbled (figure that one out) to say that Operation Appreciate/Love/Invest In Cleveland is going remarkably well. Each day is another baby step away from bitterness at my current living situation. But I have to say, I still feel like I am really on an extended stay or visit to the city -- despite the fact that I just wrote a rent check, I have now worked three weeks straight of nearly 40 hours each week at the same Starbucks location, I recognize most of my customers and they recognize me, and I have an employee parking pass attached to my windshield that makes an electric arm go up and down at my will.

So what makes a place feel like home? Can a place be home even when it doesn't feel like it? How does this whole thing work anyway?