Then, there. Carnations.

This past week, the emotional pendulum swung far and fast in both directions. I'm still feeling the whiplash. I spent time with my dear, dear Boston mama friend, which was adrenaline-pumping and giggle-festing and then she was gone. Then, back to a sink full of dishes and wearing my crankypants when there is never a towel in the bathroom when I need one.

Wednesday morning was possibly one of the worst mornings of my whole life. I believe I am mercifully recovered from Wednesday morning now. Perhaps the awesome face-collapsing funny e-mails I traded with my best friend the next two days are responsible.

All throughout the week, my heart kept swelling with huge love for my husband. And then I'd find his Freeze Pop wrappers all over the floor. Pendulum. Swing.

This morning, I tried to go to the gym and there was a diminutive diva (who did not want to wear clothes today) standing in my way. There were tears. There were prayers. There were more tears. There were 45 minutes of childcare at the gym when we finally arrived. I rowed my guts out for 45 minutes and felt high on life at the finish line.

While I was making dinner, I glanced at this image on my screen and it spoke to me like a wink from the Heavens. These carnations are so simply assembled, and so naturally vibrant. They don't need to be gilded.

I am slouching toward sabbath now and somewhere across the pond, there are Olympians racing and swimming and balance beaming to golden glory.

But after this week of extremes, I am so grateful for a day of simple rest. Like a jar filled with pink carnations. Perfection.