Waking up to flurries.
The yard is so eerily quiet and deserted as the critters seek cover.
Before we leave the house, the streets are slippery and snow covered, and the trees dusted in the flying flakes.
There is palpable energy in our midst despite the quiet in the yard because my kids sort of worship the white stuff, and maybe I do just a little bit too even if it means I have to drive white knuckled.
Of course, there is endless speculation on the number of inches and the likelihood of a snow day this week.
Me and Bit take T. Bone to school, come home, discover he left his shoes in the mudroom, dress, and are back out the door in 20 minutes.
In that time, he calls to ask me to deliver his shoes to which I reply, "Have you seen the roads? Wear your boots."
Miss Bit and all her oozing empathy somehow convinces me to save her brother from having to spend the day sporting soggy, rubber soles.
He owes her.
Have I told you lately how hugely this girl makes me want to do the right thing?
I make a quick trip to the grocery and because of the weather I have the store to myself always a bonus.
Once home, I cook and bake and clean before retiring under an afghan with a cat flanking my both sides.
I finally finish Cocktail Hour Under The Tree Of Forgetfulness.
This quote sticks with me all day: What my mother won't say - lost in all her talk of chemicals and pills - is that she knows not only the route grief takes through blood but also the route it takes through the heart's cracks. What she won't tell me is that recovering from the madness of grief wasn't just a matter of prescriptions, but of willpower.
I am so glad to have Fuller's first memoir: Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, and start it immediately.
Bam! Just like that and six hours have flown by so I leave to get my T. Bone.
Smart kid gets in the car and the first words out of his mouth are, "Thank you."
"For what?" I inquire testing him.
"Bringing my shoes," he says making the small sacrifice worth it big.
Then he carries on about what he calls "Two exciting things" about his day.
One: he lost his first molar...his eleventh tooth.
Two: ski club is planning an all day trip in February and now he's wishing the next four weeks away.
Have I said it here lately how much I L-O-V-E this kid and his enthusiasm???
He runs to retrieve his sister and they race back to the van like they always do only she wins today because he's wearing his tennis shoes instead of his boots (WTH) and therefore treading carefully.
She's almost more excited than he is with regard to the lost tooth.
He decides of his own free will and without the power of suggestion that he will shovel the driveway for his Dad before he calls his friend who he plans to snowboard with.
She keeps him company, but doesn't dig in.
They come in and declare my snowman cupcakes "too cute to eat."
But they do, and then decide that they are "THE best cupcakes" I have ever made!
Of course, this is one of the rare times I doctor up a cake mix and use a can of frosting so I'm a tad beside myself that they prefer the processed crap to homemade.
Then I eat one and realize that they taste just like Twinkies and if I worked out today I'd have two just like T. Bone cuz' I am a closet Twinkie lover even if I haven't had one in decades.
T. Bone does his homework with one eye on the clocks while he waits for his friend to finish his own assignments.
Miss Bit bundles up and waits for her friend in the fort they built the day before.
Hubby comes home and we have time to chat and chill.
I don't see the kids until we call them home for dinner.
It's dark outside, they both have cheeks that look like apples, they are soaked to the bone and starving.
They inhale their turkey burgers, naan and carrots hoping to get more time outside on the "totally awesome jump" they built.
The adults have tuna casserole that my hubby tells me is so good he has to have seconds when he doesn't usually even want firsts.
After I take a bite, I must humbly admit that he is right.
This polygamous marriage between my Mom's recipe and my paternal Grandma's recipe and my own recipe seems to take this casserole to a new level.
I have seconds too and eat my salad for dessert despite the fact that I would really like thirds.
We settle in our spots and someone queries, "Does Peanut really need two afghans?"
I don't answer because what kind of crazy question is this?
Of course he does, he's a cat and he has a fur coat, but he's too cute to deny or disturb.
We watch Celebrity Wife Swap, which is Miss Bit's new favorite show right up there with The Wild Man and Toddlers and Tiaras.
I go with it though because these moms make me look like June Cleaver (not that the kids know who she is or anything, but note to self...they should).
Soon as they're tucked in bed, hubby gets a phone call pertaining to little league, and another and another.
Yes, despite the fact that it's the middle of winter, we are already forging ahead to spring.
Hey...the draft is in 30 days I'll have you know!
I am half asleep for the news, but I hear enough to know that tomorrow is going to be cold and there will be more snow this week.
And that was today...ordinary and extraordinary all at once.
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