it is with an extremely heavy heart that I share of Honey’s passing. Always one for a chase, Honey escaped her yard, and tragically, she was hit by a car and didn’t make it. To say there is a Honey-sized hole in our hearts is an understatement. It's hard to make sense of death, to grasp the surrealness of it, but honoring Honey through his memorial fundraiser, and seeing the overwhelming support thus far, has helped me to feel warmth and connection in spite of such loss.
This week, on Earth Day, my baby turned seven! She has become a literary number, a good luck number, a Biblical number. This week, the love of my dog reminds me that time, all time, even socially-distanced time, is extremely precious and not to be taken for granted.
Though I didn't make the trip to Punxsutawney this year, I did celebrate Groundhog Day in spirit. Punxsutawney Phil can be a controversial character when he sees his shadow and predicts more winter. I happen to like the snowy months (don't hate me), so I'm fine with that furball either way. However, if there's one friend of mine who would really like Phil (for the wrong reasons), it's my Julep girl.
With each passing year, I try to whittle away at my perfectionism, or at least guide it to where it is best directed (remember? lower the expectations!). Christmas morning is not one of those places. Though I want a touch of decadence, and I want to create a morning to remember and a breakfast to savor, that experience should not come at the expense of sequestering myself in the kitchen.