I was thinking today about what I’m thankful for, and my heavens, the list would fill pages if I typed it out here. It all keeps coming back to one thing, though: I’m thankful to have a life I love. And to have grown into myself this past year, perhaps more than ever before.

Last year at this time, I was a new newlywed, still adjusting to living with a BOY (a la Monica on Friends) and struggling through a job I truly hated, and missing Oxford so much it hurt. I was still figuring out how to be a grown-up (I still am), still settling back into Abilene life after being away. I was facing my first holiday-season balancing act with my family and my husband’s family. I was teaching university students for the first time and every day was a new challenge.

This year, when I look in the mirror, I see more peace in my own eyes. I see someone who has gradually grown into herself, though I’ve still got lots of dreams and projects in the works. I see someone who’s adjusted to married life and LOVES it (and her husband). I see a haircut I love, clothes I like that flatter me, the deep peace that comes from working a job I enjoy, and a sense of contentment with my life right now. Jeremiah and I don’t know what the future holds for us after this year in Abilene. But we are content to be here now, and to savor life as it is right now.

That life, as messy and chaotic as it sometimes gets, offers me many, many things to be thankful for. So I’ll just list a few here:

I’m thankful for crisp mornings on my porch, when I step outside in my robe and greet the sunshine, now crisply golden against a wintry blue sky. I’m thankful for a car that has carried me many miles, and for my health, which I so often take for granted.

I’m thankful for our cozy, charming, love-filled house, so close to church and so perfect for us. I’m thankful for my big kitchen, with cheery red countertops and a window to look out of while I wash dishes. And for a working washer and dryer, and for hardwood floors and scented candles and crowded bookshelves, and photos and art I love on the walls.

I’m thankful that we both have jobs, and even more thankful that J and I both get paid to do what we love right now. I’m thankful to work at ACU, which takes care of its employees and is a strong, vibrant, fun community to work and live and love in.

I’m thankful for chances to travel – whether that’s a weekend in Kerrville or Midland with family, or a jaunt across the pond to my other home. I’m thankful for Skype, email, Twitter and Facebook – the modern miracles that keep me in touch with the ones I love and miss, and have helped me make new friends I hope to someday meet in person.

I’m thankful for my sweet family, from my parents and sister and my dear husband to the larger extended branches, one of whom we’ll see this week.I’m thankful that they’ve always loved me, teased me, supported me and given me chances to grow – and welcomed me back from my frequent trips away.

I’m thankful for my many dear friends, including our tightly knit Lifeteam who make my Sunday nights a highlight and support me during the rest of the week, and the coffee-night ladies, without whom I don’t know how I’d survive most weeks. They are, as previously mentioned on this blog, one of the lights of my life. I’m so lucky to be part of such a group of women. I’m also thankful for friends far away, who continue to move and inspire and love me, and for my other friends here, who make my life brighter.

I’m thankful for small-but-important things, like chai lattes and good pens and Moleskine softcover notebooks and luscious yarn and Mutts comics and all the lovely, inspiring blogs I read. And I’m thankful for the promise of the future – whatever that might hold.

I told you the list was long. Which is, of course, a good problem to have. If you’re still reading, and especially if you’re a regular reader and/or I know you in person, I am also thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving, all. May you pause this week to soak in some gratitude – and may you enjoy shining moments with those you love.

I’ve been thinking about Anne Shirley and her pens.

Even though I do a lot of work on the computer these days, I also do quite a bit of writing by hand – journaling, notes to friends, grocery and to-do lists. I am particular about my pens (I consider it one of my rights, as a writer, to be choosy about pens and ink). However, I’ve never seen the wisdom in using fancy, expensive pens, since I can’t afford them, and since fancy inks tend to smear easily. (I am left-handed, so the non-smudge factor is vital for me.) I’ve settled, finally, on some roller-ball pens from Wal-Mart – not too expensive, but nicer than ballpoint. They write well, and I suppose they should all write the same, but every once in a while one of them gives me fits – writing unevenly or scratching the paper too deeply or just refusing to work at all.

All this musing has led me back to the beginning of Anne of Windy Poplars, when Anne, newly installed as the principal of Summerside High School, settles down in her tower room to write to Gilbert for the first time. On the first page, she cautions him, “This won’t be a love-letter. I have a scratchy pen and I can’t write love-letters with a scratchy pen…or a sharp pen…or a stub pen. So you’ll only get that kind of letter from me when I have exactly the right kind of pen.”

Judging by when she lived, I’m sure Anne used fountain pens, or at least a close relative of them – and I’m sure her pens were much harder to manage than mine. But I like knowing that we are kindred spirits in this, as in so much else – and so, when my pen misbehaves or when it writes perfectly, I think of Anne in her tower room, and smile.

Since Jen posted this song on her blog about a month ago, I’ve been listening to it over and over. Not that I’m about to pack up and move to Brooklyn (though sometimes I wish I could). But it stirs something in me – the act of taking a huge, definite step; the quiet, growing excitement of a big adventure; the admission that sometimes the most vital things are the hardest to say. It also speaks to me in ways I can’t articulate. I hope that, perhaps, it will also move you.

Billy Collins is, probably, my very favourite poet. He has held that spot since I discovered his work in college – I’ve since read several volumes of his delightful, quirky, thoughtful, honest verse. While I was listening to this podcast of a reading he gave at the City university of New York, I heard him read this poem and though I’d share it with all of you.

Litany

by Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine . . .
Jacques Crickillon

The inimitable Julie asked the other day, “What are the moments that mean something to you, however ordinary?” So here, in no particular order, are a few of mine from this week:

~Twisting tissue paper, pipe cleaners and crepe paper into flowers on Tuesday night. Jana brought the supplies and we turned the back corner of Mezamiz into a colourful paper melee. The flowers are for her 40th birthday party next weekend, and my oh my, they are wonderful. (As are all the ladies who made them.) There was much laughter, much reminiscing about doing this in elementary school, and much hilarity at the instructional video featuring a cute little old English lady.

~Watching the light in my neighbours’ yard around sunset. Both the trees and the light are golden at that time of day, and  sitting on the porch with a cup of tea, watching the colours change, is one of the most beautiful moments in my day.

~Last night, Abi and Laura and I went over to Camille’s for a haircut party. We took turns sitting in the chair in her charming, green-cabineted kitchen, and chatted and laughed and told stories. And we all left with seriously snazzy hair.

~Each morning, I step out on the porch to check on my plants and breathe in the fresh air, and I love watering my geranium best of all. After simply wilting in the end-of-summer heat, it’s perked back up and is a profusion of crimson once again.

~I love driving past the houses of friends, even if I never stop. I drive past Amanda’s and Abi’s houses on my way to work each day, and I always think of them as I pass. It warms my heart to know who lives behind at least a couple of those doors.

~Cuddling with my husband in the mornings, in the dreamy space between the alarms going off and one of us actually getting up. It’s even better now that the mornings are a little chilly.

~I know I’ve said this before – but I love stepping out on the front porch at night to look at the stars. The past few nights have been crisp and clear, and the indigo sky uplit by golden street lights, dotted with stars, makes me catch my breath. I want a long cape in that colour.

Happy Love Thursday. Please visit Karen’s blog, as usual, for links to more images and stories of love.

Today is one of those days where lots of things are pressing in on me. Work deadlines; a cluttered house; my lack of focus and discipline; the disheartening amount of wrongness in the world. I’m hoping a walk after work will cure some of it. (The weather today is golden and bright blue and gorgeous.) But until then, I have Annie Parsons’ new EP to listen to.

Annie is a blog-friend, and now a real-life friend, of some of my beloved Oxfamily (from 2004). She lives in Nashville and blogs and writes songs, and I’ve been listening to her EP on repeat since it arrived in the mail. It’s soulful, rich, sassy, heartbreaking and beautiful, and it is completely rearranging me. Especially “Starting Today” and “First You Cry.” Both of those songs make me well up. (The line “a poor broken heart chasing broken white lines” leaves me undone.)

You can listen to some of her music here and buy the CD here. And trust me, if you do either, you’ll be glad you did.

Two weekends ago, J and I hopped in the car and headed down to Kerrville. As previously mentioned on this blog, my mom’s parents, her sister and brother-in-law, and their two sons live there, and we like to go visit them every few months. Since it was an autumn Friday night in Texas, however, we drove to San Antonio for that most iconic of celebrations: a high school football game.

We arrived in Schertz, Texas (northeast San Antonio) just before sunset. The teams were getting ready – ours was clad in blue, white and gold.

My cousin Andy, despite having separated one shoulder and broken the other arm earlier this season, was back on the field. And was it exciting! He had three catches, and the Kerrville Tivy Antlers (yes, I know – what a mascot) won 38-34 over the Cibolo Steele Knights. (You can see Andy below, the gold helmet on the field between #32 and #52.)

Man, I love high school football. There’s truly nothing like it. All of us, even my grandparents, spent the entire fourth quarter standing on the bleachers, yelling and clapping and screaming the team slogan, “Tivy Fight Never Dies! Tivy Fight Never Dies!”

Jeremiah (decked out in Tivy blue) won a football when the cheerleaders tossed them into the stands.

And here are Neno and me, just before that evening of raucous cheering. It was chilly, and I drank two cups of hot chocolate from the concession stand, and was glad for my jacket, hat and fingerless gloves. But oh, it was so fun.

We spent the rest of the weekend eating, reading, cooking, talking and eating some more at Neno and Pop’s. It was fabulous. And we’re crossing our fingers for the Antlers to go deep in the playoffs. Tivy Fight Never Dies!

Happy Love Thursday, all. Please visit Karen’s blog for links to more images and stories of love.

Many of you voiced your opinions when I asked for help choosing paint colors for my office. I chose the colors, sent off the work order, and then waited. And waited. (Our painting department is a one-man team right now, so I had to wait until he called in outside help.)

But last Wednesday, the workers came, and they painted my office in less than a whole workday. And behold, I give you the result:

Three dark gray walls. One purple accent wall. A new lamp. Framed diplomas, photos and art hung on the wall. And finally, a color scheme I love.

Thanks for all your input – you guys are awesome. Now, back to staring dreamily at my new walls…

I confess: I didn’t do a whole lot of reading this month. (For me, anyway.) I did a LOT of knitting – four adult hats, two baby hats, a baby bib, miniature hats for Innocent smoothies, and a cowl. (Also three in-progress projects: a scarf and two secret Christmas gifts.) I also did a lot of traveling/hosting people at my house: taking Jeremiah to see U2, hosting my mom and sister for ACU Homecoming, heading down to Kerrville to see the grandparents and the cousins, hosting a girls’ clothes swap on Halloween. And as always, I read lots of blogs, and Real Simple cover to cover…but anyway. Enough justifying. The books.

Casting Off, Nicole R. Dickson
This was an impulse buy at Books-A-Million, and a beautiful story of love, loss and knitting on the Aran Islands. I visited these islands two years ago with my friend Colton, and they are gorgeous and mysterious and full of memory. This story tapped into all of that, plus giving a great deal of fascinating info about the traditional fisherman’s ganseys (sweaters) knitted by the islanders. I hear there’s a sequel in the works; I hope so. Knitting and Ireland, for me, definitely made a magical combination.

A Little Help From My Friends, Anne Dayton and May Vanderbilt
I loved the third book in the Miracle Girls series – couldn’t put it down, literally. Zoe, the main character, is a shy, sweet band geek who reminds me of me in some ways, and the book chronicles her junior year and struggles with faith, boys, family and friends. Anne and May write such authentic, funny, endearing stories about high school – I can’t wait for the fourth book.

Aunt Dimity’s Death, Nancy Atherton
Reader Corrie recommended this series to me, so I checked this, the first one, out from the library. Very fun and fluffy – sort of a fairy-tale mystery, mainly set in an English cottage in the Cotswolds. The main character, Lori, can be exasperating, but she’s likable, as are all the minor characters. And the ending was quite satisfying. Atherton has written a dozen of these books, to which I may return when my reading list is a little shorter.

Heaven to Betsy, Maud Hart Lovelace
HarperCollins has reissued the last six books in the Betsy-Tacy series, in three beautiful volumes with lovely covers, the original artwork, and forewords by Laura Lippman, Meg Cabot and Anna Quindlen. They’re gorgeous! I drooled over them for a month, then finally ordered them on Friday. They came on Saturday and I’ve been reading all weekend. I love these sweet, funny, delicious stories about Betsy Ray’s high school years. A reread, and highly recommended.

I hope to have more books for you next month. For now, happy November to you – and I hope everyone had a happy Halloween!

We have no local yarn shop, as such, in Abilene. Actually, we have no local yarn shops within a 150-mile radius. As an increasingly obsessed knitter, this makes me very sad. (Though Michaels and Hobby Lobby do come through for me sometimes.)

However, on our way down to visit my grandparents this past weekend, we stopped at Stonehill Spinning in Fredericksburg. (We went by on Memorial Day, but it was closed.) J graciously let me browse for 15 or 20 minutes. And oh my goodness, it was WONDERFUL.

It’s such a cute, rustic little place, and they offer knitting, spinning and rug hooking classes. They had Rowan and Brown Sheep and Cascade and Manos del Uruguay yarns, and more. They even had some locally spun yarn, and a rack of knitting books. There were handmade samples everywhere, and afternoon light drifting through the windows. It was lovely.

Here I am outside the shop, with my beautiful skein of Manos del Uruguay Silk Blend yarn. (Which will be made into a soft, lovely cowl for me, as soon as I can get to it.)