Sunday mornings are my favorite. I wake up with the knowledge that I still have one more day before work starts again - that I can truly be lazy.

As lazy as I let myself get.

A couple weekends a month, either Al or Al and I go to Clarksville to visit his parents and our friends there. His parents house is lovely, full of color and old curiosities. Right now his mom's flowers are in bloom, lending color to their stark green yard.

I wake up around 8 or 9, go for a long run on the hills here, come back, sit and have coffee and read. The grey light falls through the windows, sending long, dim beams across the room.

This particular weekend, his parents are gone to a wedding. The dogs are gone too - to the kennel, I think. It's quiet. Quiet and still. How Sundays should be.