Lucky

The last 3 hours have been perhaps the mellowest 3 hours I have had in months.

It did not include blogging. Or running. Or kvetching. Or organizing. Or paying attention to the House vote on Healthcare Reform. (Sorry. Bad citizen. I know.)

In that period I had a Hosting a Dinner with Friends Recovery Hour.  I sat down on the couch.  I called my grandma. Then my sister called and I talked to her.  Then I hung up the phone, pushed repeat on my friend Balint's recording of J.S. Bach's St Anne Prelude and Fugue -- perhaps one of the most stellar versions I know of the most stellar organ piece I know --  and let it wash over as I lay back on the couch, feet up, and closed my eyes.  The dishes were done. The leftovers were stored. My stomach was full of another friend, Chris', homemade fried sausage and my grandma's recipe for plattar and some potent Hungarian apricot hootch that Balint brought and the peppermint schnapps we downed over toasts to celebrate Bach's 325th birthday today and my 37th birthday tomorrow and the sunshine and Spring and family recipes and the music and the fellowship of the gathered and the friendship and the love.

I thought of my family, my friends, the day ... and knew I had moved, if only for this certain hour, from relatively content to completely content, and realized, quite frankly, that I can't believe how lucky I am for it.