To the Race's House We Go

My high school cross country coach and his wife are two of my favorite people, and I haven't seen them in far too long, so when my mom asked if I wanted to ride out to their home with her on Tuesday evening to pick up some beef (and by "some" I mean 85 pounds), I jumped at the chance. Life on a farm feels so romantic to me sometimes, and there is nothing like catching up with Dr. Race over a glass of really good wine. 

The scenery isn't too bad, either.




  






When the world feels dark and overwhelming, it's nice to have a place where things don't seem to change.

My heart goes out to Boston this week. Life should be joyful. We shouldn't have to be afraid at every turn.
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