It's all in the little things...

Summer is on its way - all the signs are here:

• Most nights now, a cool shower, rather than a hot-as-you-can-get-it bath, feels like the perfect prelude to bedtime.


• Come Saturday morning, I can't wait to get out to the farmer's market to see what produce looks good. And for the rest of the week, I'm dog-earing issues of Rachel Ray Every Day in search of incredible ways to cook said produce.


• Speaking of which - I have figured out how to eat pasta well, finally. In my "old life" pasta was something you gorged on, and even after doing WW for months, if I wanted pasta, I saved up all my weeklies and blew them on a dish of pasta on my night out. Or pulled out a Lean Cusine meal (which are good, in their own right, but... not real food. Not really). So, tonight I made one carefully measured portion of pasta, and loaded it with veggies to make it go further - zucchini, squash, asparagus (oh, asparagus, I think it may be my fav veggie of all time) - added no-added-sugar tomato sauce, and a sprinkle of fat free mozzarella. And it was incredible.


• I have tasted watermelon for the first time this year. Not great watermelon, mind you, as it's really truly too early for good melon, but watermelon nonetheless.


• Maggie and I were in the truck together today and for some reason we started talking about fruit, and the thought popped into my head and out through my lips that "fruit tastes like sunshine." Which, now that I've said it out loud, it does, in my opinion. Maggie looked at me funny for a second, thought about it, shrugged, and said, "Yeah." We then launched into a deep discussion about which fruit tastes most like sunshine. My money is either on a really ripe, beautiful, unblemished peach, and her pick was a lemon. Which I have to admit I don't get AT ALL, but to each their own.


• Inspired by the fact that I apparently had no warm-weather shirts, I pulled down all my clothing bins and brought out all my summer clothes. I've worn a tank top already (granted, it was under a springish cardigan, but still lol).


• While I was sorting clothes I pulled every piece of clothing that I owned out and tried it on. And I'm amazed and humbled in a grateful sort of way that everything I own fits in one of three categories: Fits, Fits for now (start looking for a replacement because in another 5 pounds, you're outta luck), and Too Big. There's no more "too tight, but I could layer something over it to hide it" clothes, no more "Maybe someday I'll be able to wear that again" clothes. It's all either Now or Then. And when I was done I sat between the two piles and thought about putting the Then pile back into rubbermaid bins just in case, and instead I shoved it all into trash bags and took it to the thrift store. Because keeping it because I liked the style, even if it no longer fit, is only taking up space, and there will be cuter clothes (much cuter clothes!) to buy in smaller sizes. Because keeping it because I'm afraid I'll fail means that part of me still hold on to failure as a viable option.


• My windowsill is lined with pots of flowers, herbs, and veggie plants, all thriving and growing and reaching for the sky. This is a small miracle. Two years ago I wanted desperately to learn to grow plants, and I couldn't keep any plant alive longer than two weeks. Two years later, more of my seedlings thrive than die. Granted, learning to grow plants is of no moral consequence whatsoever. But there were a bunch of "seeds" planted in my life around the same time that my plants were committing suicide all around me, and whenever I see my windowsill of plants, it reminds me that more is growing than just plants.