Well, now that I'm done staring at it endlessly (and occasionally picking it up and petting it as if it were a perfectly lovely cat

) my high point came on Saturday. The mail truck dropped off a little box wherein lived the most
beautiful sweater a boy could ever hope to find

. Honestly, I've never seen anything so appealing. Hand-crafted, perfectly woven, warm (emphasis on that part indeed - wintr still rages in Ohio). It was just so
nice and so
special and just so ...well... everything "good". I spent an hour being in awe of it. Then an hour feeling entirely underserving of it. Then an hour wondering how a bunch of strings can end up something as spectacular as my new sweater was, as it sat there. I was pretty much speechless (which is kind of a switch for me). I've adored you for
years, Miss Sara. Now I not only adore YOU, but your skills and kindness of heart even more. Easter was very very nice in Gatsbyland.
Not much of anything for a *low*, I reckon. Maybe last night was a nuisance. I have a wee proclivity towards aches and pains now and then but the
weirdest "ouches" happened last night. Everything, and I'm not kidding ~ especially considering the vile nature of the climate around here for months on end, felt great. Then I was laying there almost asleep and, of all things, it felt like three bears and six cubs were chewing off my fingertips? Huh? Legs and arms and nose and ears were resting cooperatively but *oops* all of a sudden I get cannonballs shooting out of my fingertips? And I gotta say, too (short-lived as it was) that was the most intense scream-worthy actual "pain" I've had for
some time. Quite unnecessary, I thought

. But, today, the fingertips are fine. AND I believe I'll wear my new sweater, too. I'm as happy as a part-time camper with a gas grill and extra pork chops

.