It's been a quiet weekend. Jon is beginning his second finals week. I fled to Pennsylvania for the last one and would have done so again but it didn't work out this time around. It's not horribly bad ... yet. Jon is either studying or recovering from studying. But he does take an occasional break to wash the dishes, sweep the floor or bathe the kiddos. And these are the kind of study breaks I appreciate. Since he spends most of his time either at school or in our office, I am the sole entertainment 'round here. Well, me and the TV. Ugh, I hate that I succomb to its powers on a daily basis. But at 8am this girl can't hold a candle to "Micka Mouse". *sigh* How did Ma Ingalls do it??
We managed to squeeze a family outing in on Saturday. Our first since the night our house was robbed. Actually, I've been told the term is "burglarized." But I think "robbed" sounds more dramatic. And since it's my blog I can be as dramatic as I want. So for the first time since we were ROBBED ... we met some Pennsylvania friends for dinner. Geoff and Megan were doing some last minute shopping in DC before their fourth baby (and first boy!!!) arrives in a few weeks. For 2 years now we've been listening to them sing the praises of Texas de Brazil, waiting quietly for our chance to sample it's goodness. So when the opportunity arose we jumped at it. You know we were desperate since it was an hour drive through the city and, without a babysitter, we elected to take the boys. It was well worth it. I could have thrived on the salad bar alone, but when unlimited steak is on the menu it's hard to turn down another round. No pictures though since I was either busy keeping tiny hands away from the steak knives or quickly stuffing my face during a free moment.
Leaving our home for the evening takes a bit more effort these days, since we have to take extra secruity precautions. And coming home is also a different experience. Glancing down the street looking for shadows, checking to make sure no one is lurking behind your door, wondering if your laptop will still be there when you walk into the kitchen. I'll stop talking about it though, otherwise I'll get angry and say something unbecoming.
And so, we're feeling all snug and cozy in our 'burb nest, especially thanks to Wednesday night's storm. Our yard is a blanket of white. The blinding kind that makes you squint when you peek outside, but which also radiates sun in through the windows and spreads a little more cheer around the house. And I'll take it. I'll take that extra dose of vitamin D streaming through my panes because it's been a long winter, and it's only just begun.
And I'll take that pile of cold, fluff piled outside the door because it compels me to think of home in terms of "cozy" and "inviting" rather than "trapped" and "cabin fever." And I must say, it's quite nice living where it snows during the winter.
It makes chilly short days and frigid long nights much more acceptable. Not necessarily easier, although we do enjoy a few sled runs down the hill in the backyard for as long as our tiny little hands and toes can handle it, but at least acceptable. Winter, I accept you.
I accept you because you come with a beginning and an end, albeit fuzzy ones. I accept you because you force me to think creatively for ways to occupy Mr. Energetic and his apprentice in an effort to combat the evil silver screen.
I accept you because you provide a time of rest and respite before the busy days of summer, days that I'm anxiously marking out on my calendar, days in which I'll look back on the dead of winter and wish for just one night of this. A night of a bowl full of popcorn, the fireplace and a good book. A night of nowhere to be, nothing to do, no one to clean the house for. A night of winter.
A toast! A mug full of steaming hot cocoa with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Here's to you Old Man Winter. I don't wish you away. I celebrate you. I muffin bake, snow angel make, blue hue decorate, paper snowflake, carpe your diems.
You didn't let me down this year. My boy tasted fresh snow, romped in the drifts and had his first sled ride.
All I ask is for a one more storm, of quality packable snow, so that he can get his own, real life "Frossy a 'no man." Here, here!