That’s right. Wombats poop in squares.

We spent the last five days in Colorado and as we were rafting down the Colorado, our Aussie guide got so bored on a stretch of water with no fun, he decided we needed to be “in the know.”

So now we know. And so do you.

Here’s something else I know:

Every morning. Without fail. 

And I know that I am grateful for a long walk with Sam where we solve the problems and challenges we both face by talking about the nitty gritty.

And I know that God gives gifts by allowing me to hear the hummingbirds and enjoy the rain pelting the windshield and appreciate the words of a great book and He graces my life with the big huge present of a daughter who calls her mama when she is down and He treats me to funny moments and great food and beautiful scenery on I-70 and the “aaaahhhh” feeling of coming home and He blesses me with a little dog who’s happy to see me and He gives me sweet, sweet assurance that I am loved through the eyes and words and touch of Sam.

And I know I am grateful that the piece of chicken that came flying across the table on Tuesday night did not land in my glass of water or down my blouse or in my hair, but I am also grateful for lots of laughter with a family of very rambunctious children, including the little guy who decided to fling chicken.

And I am grateful for a 5:30 am alarm and the new resolve to get back to five miles a day.

And finally, I am grateful I am not a wombat, although I’m kinda shaped like one this summer.