bask.

word of the day: bask \ˈbask\ to take pleasure or derive enjoyment

It's a day for basking. My house is clean, the windows are open, and my Ingrid Michaelson Pandora station is humming in the background.

Let's talk about Ingrid Michaelson for a second.

She's my current playlist of choice and she (Pandora I suppose) did not disappoint today. When I pushed play this afternoon, the first song that played is the one you are currently listening to right now. However, if you're like me, the second you heard music playing from my blog you hit 'mute' because it's difficult for you to listen to music and read at the same time. I understand. But go ahead. Pump up the volume. Bask in the sound.

Something came over me when 'Everybody' came through my speakers. It was a cross between boogie shoes and dance fever, but boy, I was feelin' the beat. It started as a simple step-touch around my house with my hands in the air. Yes, that's right. I was literally throwing my hands in the air as I skipped around my couch.

But it didn't stop with just a simple skip. No, no, no.

You had better believe that the tapper in me broke out the triple time step. I tossed off my clogs (that's for you, Paish), found my center, and did a few 'stomp, hop, shuffle, step, flap steps' in my socks on the tile floor. My grand finale was complete with a few double pirouettes--only one of which I landed cleanly.

Yeah, I've still got it.

That's what kind of day it is. A day to clean the house while the sun pours in through every possible crevice. A day to dance around the living room with reckless abandon. A day to sit in a lawn chair for an hour staring at the sun in hopes that just an ounce of it will be left on your face.

It's a day to bask.

Ginny basked too. In fact, Ginny basked in the sun so much that she escaped the fence twice this afternoon. I followed her across two lawns with a jar of peanut butter in my hand. It was the best idea I have ever had.
She wasn't rewarded so handsomely after her last escape, though. When she shimmied under the fence the second time, she ran back to me with a streak of mud covering her belly. Instead of peanut butter, she got a bath. This is how she felt about that:
It's ok, Ginny.

Happy is the heart that still feels pain.
Darkness drains and light will come again.
Swing open your [clean] chest and let it in.
Just let the love love love begin.

Go ahead. Rewind the song back to the beginning. Maybe you need to take a spin around your living room, too.