#ThankfulThursday | little boxes on the hillside

When I was a little girl, I used to get fixated on one particular movie or show.  I would watch it, obsessively, compulsively, whole-heartedly and whole-mindedly, as often as my parents gave me the opportunity.  The summer I turned 6, you've heard me say before, I watched Legend every day after lunch. I would dress up in one of my grandma's silky nightgowns in an approximation of the dress Mia Sara wore, and I would settle down in Grandma's cool, dark living room and let Tangerine Dream and the creatures and characters of Legend wash over me, become a part of me, irrevocably. (Truth be told, I still sort of do this--with movies, shows, music; I'm the person the "repeat" button was created for.) The story of Legend, though I loved it, was less important to me than the world.  I wanted to be transported. I wanted to inhabit those magical places.  Mads obsesses over single shows or movies at a time just the same way I did, though I don't know what his motives might be.  First, it was all about Pee Wee's Playhouse.  Pee Wee everyday.  Then, he moved on to The Adventures of Puss in Boots ("Meow Meow"), then Dinosaur Train ("Dine Choo Choo"), next a collection of Cars shorts streaming on Netflix.  But, for the past couple weeks, he has requested The Boxtrolls every time he gets to watch a show (typically, twice a day--while I'm making breakfast in the morning, and while I make dinner at night).  As it happens, I am completely charmed by The Boxtrolls, and I have a hard time tearing myself away from the movie when I start it for Martigan, though I've seen it with him now several times.  I just find it so captivating and weird and gross and winsome.  No matter how many times I watch it, the end still makes me so wistful that as the credits roll, my eyes get a little misty.  I'm grateful to Mads, for sharing this little delight with me, and to the people who created this thing. 

I Am Grateful:

• when Wolfman unexpectedly appears in my shop while I'm working, so handsome, and gives me a kiss, and I feel giddy and proud, as if we've just started dating.
• for the figs, plump and ripe on the tree in Grandma's backyard--they always ripen just in time for my birthday, like a gift.
• to watch a storm roll in through the big windows at work with a coworker, Chase, a fellow rain and storm enthusiast.
• for the Argiope spiders that make webs each year in our hedges, so stunning in the middle of their webs, like jewels.
• for our one-dog clean-up crew, Lunchbox, who always takes care of the crumbs and mess around Martigan's chair after meals, making my job that much easier.
• for farm-stand peaches the size of softballs, practically meals in-and-of themselves.
• that I have someone to hug, to kiss, to touch, to love.
• for a birthday visit from my father-in-law, Bob, for the way he watches Martigan and for the way he hugs goodbye, with his head rested on my shoulder, and for the message he wrote in my card this year, that he is so glad to have me for a daughter.
• for the sound of ripping and crinkling wrapping paper (and the gifts underneath that paper, of course).
• for a blank day planner and all the hope and possibility vibrating off those blank pages.
• that the pistachio gelato and Cheerwine sherbet we just happen to have in our freezer at the moment go together so perfectly.

"Little Boxes," Loch Lomond