Oh my, nothing like my thoughtful, authentic, strangely close for having only met once, sister writer friend Lindsey Mead to get me back to blogging. And on gratitude, my favorite of topics. Sigh. Thank you Linds for tagging me and for including me in your circle of friends  I am grateful to know you, girl. I will also tag three friends who I sense believe as I do that gratitude is the language of the universe. My husband for whom I am most grateful,Daniel T Lemaitre, Babbie Lester who is a perpetual light, even if I see her less, much less, than I’d like to, and Dallas Sweat, friend, confidant, horse woman extraordinaire who is separated from her passion for a few months, laid up with a badly broken leg.

When I sat down to write what I’m grateful for, over thirty ideas popped onto the page in less than a minute, no joke. So, in no particular order of relevance, magnitude, or priority, today’s three are: bumper stickers, timber, and wine.

1. Bumper stickers. While our three cars sport a total of zero bumper stickers, I LOVE reading them on other cars. It has something to do with a meditation I did years ago that focused on how I would live if my time was limited. “I’d see friends and family, and spend time in Nature,” I wrote. “And I wouldn’t waste the time in between. I’d appreciate each and every drive, tree, sky, bumper sticker, plane ride and peanuts.” Though nothing in that sentence is profound, the joy I felt of being so present as to relish something as silly as bumper stickers was deep and lasting. As such, bumper stickers remind me of that peaceful feeling, they remind me to slow down, pay attention, be present, and enjoy the ride. And so follows intense gratitude.

Plus, some are just plain funny. Last week, one car sported two stickers that had me laughing out loud. The first was, “0.0” (as opposed to 26.2 or 100 or whatever number people stick on their car). As a two time Olympic medalist who does not currently sport a giant bumper sticker identifying me and my car as my accomplishments, there is something I simply adored about “0.0” and not taking oneself so seriously. I mean, really.

The second sticker on that car was a dinosaur eating a stick family with the obvious caption, “My dinosaur ate your stick family.” I live in Utah where stick families can wrap around the back windshield. I love a good stick family as much as the rest, especially our awesome gestational surrogateLeann Badger Dempsey‘s stick family (love you guys!), and I don’t like the idea of people hurting kids in anyway, even if it’s a mythical stick dinosaur, but see above about learning to laugh at oneself. Funny stuff, I tell you. Other winners: “Watch out for the idiot behind me.” “Jesus loves you, everyone else thinks you’re an asshole.” And lest my taste in bumper stickers leads one to believe I’m cynical (which I am not), my favorite, “Wag More, Bark Less.” Which rolls right into Timber…

2. Timber. The dog may be the sweetest soul I have ever met. She consistently reminds me to be joyful. She consistently reminds me to pay attention. She consistently gives loyalty, love, joy, friendship, companionship, all of it. It would take a book to write about how much she means to us all, about how she protectively stays closer to me when we’re hiking alone, how she crawls between Dan and I in a thunderstorm, how barks if anyone comes near the babies, how she lets said babies now little kids do pretty much anything, it would take forever. So instead I’ll just tell one story.

Last week, Timber and I were hiking through a mountain meadow dotted with rocks when she took off, as she always does, after some rodent. She never catches anything and the way she darts and cuts over rocky terrain makes me certain she’s going to break a leg, at best; so I spend a good portion of every hike wondering how I’m going to carry my 70lb dog back down the mountain. But, last week she did catch something! A chipmunk! She literally caught it by the tail, lifting her head high in the air to show me. I, in turn, screamed in delight for her. “Good girl, you caught it!! You super duper rodent catcher!” At which point Timber smiled, which caused her to open her mouth, which freed the chipmunk who skirted away. Still, when she got to me for her congratulatory rub, her smiled continued. “Such a good girl, are you so proud of yourself?” Her answer was clearly yes, then she took off ahead of me, her tail turning circles like a propeller which means one seriously happy dog. Timber’s happiness levels manifest in a number of ways. If we’re in open spaces, or even occasionally in the house if Brooke McAffee visits, she runs big happy circles, full tilt, in a physical manifestation of pure delight at the improbability of being alive in this world at this time. Her wavy walk is characterized by wavy bum followed by a wavy tail in which I swear I can hear Dan singing the lyrics, “feeling groovy.” But my favorite is when she prances. It’s a springy little walk that seems to say I have so much energy and such joy that I could explode into a run but I’m also content just to prance along this trail, taking in the day. I am so grateful for everything Timber is and everything she brings to our family.

3. Wine. It turns my face a serious shade of red. Sometimes it disrupts my sleep. Sometimes it gives me a truly awful hangover. Sometimes it is unfit to drink and other times I taste mother earth offering a gift of herself in the various textures and elements of a great glass. But mostly, wine is a small way to mark the celebration of being alive each and every day. Or at least most days. Ok, so when the babies were young(er), it was less of a celebration and more of a holy smokes am I going to make it kind of question mark around 5pm. But most days, a glass of wine marks something else entirely, it marks a relaxing into the moments of my life, a letting go into the present, just the gentlest and briefest of pauses within the movement. Dan and I never drink without cheering each other and our life together, and now Kalvin and Grace to as well. They cheers each other with everything from raspberries to ice cream cones to lollipops, which pretty much makes my heart melt into a puddle of gratitude on the floor into which I dive and disappear into the present. Good life. Very good.