Letting Go

I got home from work last night and, after 1/2 hour of thumbing through old quilting magazines, decided I needed a nap. Kevin was sitting on the couch and was about to get up, but I told him to relax! there's enough room for both of us. I laid down and put my feet on his lap. Get this--he started massaging them!

I ask you, dear reader, is there much that is better than dozing off to the sound of your husband and son conversing about miscellaneous topics while your feet are being rubbed and the green glow of the Christmas tree lights and the warmth of the fire linger on the edge of your senses?

I persisted there, in a state of relaxed bliss, for a good 45 minutes. When I rustled back to the surface, Stevie was sitting beside his daddy, getting his own feet rubbed. There is something about little kids getting their hyper-flexible and super soft little feet massaged that is just too cute. Then Kevin made Stevie some dinner and got him ready for bed! All while I either laid there or, later, sat in my chair, reading. Remember a few posts ago when I was about to go ballistic because I was doing too much? That has changed. And it's lovely.