Family. In three weeks, we will be heading up Logan Canyon for a Pugmire Family Reunion. This event includes a pretty good chunk of our clan, descending from my great-grandparents, through their 7 children, and on and on and on. At it’s height of glory, we have close to 200 people in that ski lodge. Way back when, I dated a guy who had one aunt who he never saw, and grandparents he visited every other summer. When I told him I had nineteen first cousins whose names I could rattle off without a second thought, he nearly choked. He had no idea that a family could be as connected as mine was and is. And while I still only have nineteen first cousins, we’ve added lots of spouses, and even more kids. And I’m pretty sure that under pressure, I could probably pull about 98% on the name game. None of this shocked Aaron though — because his family is just as big and just as crazy as mine. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen so many of them, and I’m already counting down to Thanksgiving when the Boswell’s will convene in Phoenix. And it goes without saying that my own little family of five is the best thing I’ve ever been a part of. They make me who I am, and on most days, I’m kind of awesome.

Friends. I am so lucky. I have friends who have known me since birth, or shortly thereafter. I have friends that Aaron brought to the marriage that couldn’t have been better had I picked them out myself. I have friends who live (too) far away, and I have friends who live around the corner. I have friends I see almost every day, and I have friends who I have never met in person. Whenever I start to feel sorry for myself, thinking that I’m all alone in my messy, laundry-filled, noisy house, all I have to do is start making a list of people I could call that would cheer me up. Usually, I don’t even have to pick up the phone, because just realizing how long that list is reminds me how very blessed and lucky I am.

France, and all things French. I don’t care if you think they’re snooty (they can be), or if you think eating snails is gross (butter and garlic, people. Butter. And. Garlic.), or whatever cliched concept you have of the country and its inhabitants. I am totally and irrationally oblivious to it. My adoration runs blindly and deep.

Fresh Fruit. One of my favorite things about Spring/Summer is the arrival of beautiful, delicious fresh fruit at the grocery store. Cantaloupe (we’ve already discussed this one), grapes, watermelon, pineapple, strawberries, cherries, plums, nectarines… Yum. Yum. And more YUM!

Favors. I love them from both sides. I love kids-free errand running, thanks to a bunch of other moms who will gladly take on a few extra kids for an hour or two. I love taking on a few extra kids for an hour or two so another mom can run kids-free errands. I love it when someone else makes dinner. I love making dinner for someone else. Do you see a trend here? Seriously… we need to start asking more. It’s a win/win deal.

Freedom. My emotions about it are personal and profound, though I take it for granted much more than I should. It is one of the most precious and divine gifts I have been given. That strangers, people who have never met me would willingly pay so high a price for me to keep it is extraordinary and humbling.

Golly gee… Go ahead and come back tomorrow. Guaranteed gratitude coming right up.