It is quiet inside, rainy outside, and the only thing disturbing this perfect solitude is the occasional post-it raining off the kitchen cabinets. There are 46 post-it notes still on my cabinets. Guilty as charged.

Last night I made a dinner that I quite liked (recipe here). But you already know what’s missing from that plate.

That would be anything green. Guilty.

I tried a new vegetable thanks to my veg box, and stained everything purple temporarily.

Sorry, cutting board! My fault.

I woke up late and hadn’t planned well for the company coming over shortly for brunch. I decorated very last minute and closed the door on my scrappy mess.

Guilty.

We had a Valentine’s brunch today, a few days late. And I so don't feel guilty for the tardiness

I'm remembering again that life can be messy and it doesn't matter at all. My house can be a bit cluttered, my parties less than magazine-worthy, and my hair curling weirdy, and it doesn't matter. Unless I make it matter. And I don't need to. I'm so thankful my friends don't, my husband doesn't, and more than anything, I'm thankful Jesus doesn't.

My mathematician friend and I used to discuss aesthetics; she explained that beauty requires a consistent pattern that is broken (the arrangement of trees in a forest, for example). We humans don't resonate with perfect and absolutely clean lines (like modern, sterile homes). So, enjoy the instants of real and misaligned beauty today; I say bring on showers of post-its all over the counter. Happy middle of the week messy-beauty from me to you!