Judi Stauffer
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some days are just perfect . . .

12/26/2012

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Perhaps what makes a day perfect is a matter of personal preference; perhaps not. For me, key elements of a perfect day require that it starts slowly, builds spontaneously, flows effortlessly and timelessly, and ends with a sense of contentedness and fulfillment.

Today was such a day . . . It began around 6:30 AM with the first hint of daylight. The cloud shapes and colors of the clouds as they reflected first light drew me from my warm bed to stand by an open window to admire and photograph. Climbing back into bed, nestled by my two pups Simba Ndogo and Peetie I caught up on emails. At 8:30 AM we three headed downstairs for breakfast after which I put away dishes washed from the night before and caught up with news via Zite. A call from a friend and an unanticipated post-holiday lunch date was made. Another call with an invitation to stop by to meet a young puppy that friends are caring for over the holidays. A couple of unhurried hours later “the boys” — Simba and Peetie — and I head to Solvang for lunch. Next, we head to Ballard to see the puppy. . . cute, cute, cute . . . eat an “outrageous brownie” and in the process learn about the website Tastebook.com. A few errands later, we headed home. It is 5 PM.

After feeding “the boys”, I catch up with my friend Julie who lives on Kauai before starting tonight’s cooking project — split pea soup with ham. Multi-tasking, I polish off the last three homemade chicken tamales I helped my friend Peggy make last week, and watch the movie “The Holiday” while cooking. By 10 PM the soup is done, the movie is over, and the kitchen is cleaned up. 

Laying in bed with Simba draped over my legs and Peetie trying hard to share my pillow, a few emails are sent. Yes, I feel both contented and fulfilled before drifting off to sleep — a perfect day indeed!

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    I am an artist and writer who aims to live life consciously and creatively with no "Plan B." My musings include experiences from my travels as well as those who inspire me.

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