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Another Oklahoma morning has arrived, heralded in by the sound of my husband’s alarm clock. He sets it every night for 6:30 AM, come hell or high-water, after writing down a list of chores he wants to accomplish the next day. I, on the other hand, hat alarm clocks and drag myself out of bed at whatever time, having little clue what I’m going to do with my day. The HE of my life likes to arrange his chores, lining them up in a little black notebook like obedient little ponies waiting patiently to be ridden to a desired destination. The ME of this life crawls out of bed, sometimes bidden by the pawing of a kitty impatient for food, wanting first a cup of coffee and a slow start to the day. Chores – what chores? Oh, you mean straightening up the pile of catalogs, magazines and books left over on the recliner-side table from the previous day’s perusal? Or did you possibly mean sweeping, dusting and mopping the floors or doing laundry? Certainly you couldn’t possibly want an immediate washing-up of the dishes left over from last night’s late snacking. It’s not always like that, honestly. Sometimes I feel like jumping onto the alligator-like chores that need to be done, and riding them into submission. It’s just that other things get in the way most of the time – like taking time to watch a dove coming in to land at our bird feeder early in the morning, or enjoying the antics of a little squirrel cracking sunflower seeds and corn kernels in the back-yard. My he-man is always patient with my wanderings through the day, and has learned during 50 years of marriage to give me time to assimilate the pleasures of the day while somehow managing to muckle through and keep the sanitation police at bay. He also gives me the first cup of coffee each day, along with a big bear hug and a bit of snuggle. Life is good!

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