Not a House, It's a Home.

   The hippies might call it a harmonic convergence. When many aspects combine to form  a harmonious whole. That whole is your home. (The w is silent.) Starting  a new month we take stock and see how the last month has brought us to a state of more gracious living.
    Just yesterday afternoon, I felt that hamonious sensation. Onions were sauteing in the kitchen. A Buckwheat Zydeco record was blasting on the stereo. I was building a fire in the fireplace ( not in the garage).  As I bent down, arranging the kindling, my pants slid off my butt. No one's home , so I don't care. I feel a cold wet nose and a vigorous licking on the ole butt crack. That better be the dog. And it was! He has his good points. At that moment, I am the king and this is my castle.
    I hope you can have that feeling too.