I don’t know if it’s the warm glow of our Christmas tree, or the addition of some really good stuff to our Netflix queue (have you seen Breaking Bad? o.m.g.…), or the way I fit just right in the corner of our new leather sectional, but I am especially loving home and its abundance of comforts these days. I’m loving homemade cookies and cups of hot chocolate, cranking up my Christmas mix on the stereo and sitting by our tree laden with so many memory-filled ornaments. I didn’t go into work on Monday, thinking I’d get a jump start on the cleaning and grocery shopping before Shane’s parents arrive on Friday, but instead I spent the entire day camped out on the sofa with my knitting and my book, just wanting to soak in the quiet joy of being at home during this Advent season. Home…that word used to conjure up feelings of uncertainty and a longing for times past, having lost my connection to my childhood house when my parents left California; now that word brings so much comfort and contentedness, as we more deeply root ourselves in Seattle year by year. Shane and I are continually reassured that we are just where we’re meant to be, in our cozy little South Seattle town home, surrounded by neighbors we trust and friends we adore, with a bakery nearby that serves the best ginger scone I’ve ever tasted and a pizza place that has redefined our understanding of thin crust (I know, it sounds like I’m putting baked goods and pizza up there with neighbors and friends, and…I am. hehe.). I’ve had a couple of friends make big moves lately, leaving Seattle for the sunny beaches of San Diego, and I felt small pangs of envy as they left, wanting to resist the fact that at the age of 30, I’m already “all settled down”. But really, settled feels pretty good for us right now. There really is no place like home for the holidays.