There is a reason that we write, and blog, and take pictures, and tell stories. Sometimes we need to be reminded that we are good. That we are loved. And that we have lived.

A gourmet burger.
An honest conversation.
A drink.
A tear.
An argument.
A kiss.
A phone call.
A smile.
A baby.
A concert.
A kitty.
A rainy day.
A sunshine walk.
A bookshelf.
A video.
A laugh.
A joke.
Quiet.

This morning I was a little saddened to be me. Not me, exactly. But me in context.  Now I'm proud. And this is how it should be. Thank you my wonderful memories.

Also when someone tells you that you are wonderful to be around it does wonders for your psyche. Go do this now.

(Edit. I technically not supposed to be on the internet or watching The Answer Man until February 1st, so if we can just pretend that I posted tomorrow that'd be great. Okay? Wonderful.)