This weekend was two late nights and two rather lazy days. It's what happens when we stay up past our bedtimes. It's what happens when we end the night with chocolate martinis. It's what happens in February. I find this second month of the year to be the most insular. It's raining right now. Freezing rain. I have no plan to leave the house all day. So yes, confined and also content with that reality.
Friday was pizza and Sequence with my brother and sil and Saturday was Mexican and cards with Pete and Sue. Shanghai Rummy is a new favorite. These are the best kinds of nights: cozy, chummy, filled with easy conversation. They are the kind of copacetic collusions that make time elusive because before you know it, it's the next day.
The next day and I sleep in and fill my days with this and that. Nothing pressing. A nap after errands and cleaning Saturday. Time with my books and in my kitchen on Sunday. A pot of black beans simmering away on the stove all afternoon. Sunday was Mexican at Casa Wags again. We three sat down for family dinner. It's something I have missed with Lily's crazy schedule. She declared that we could only speak Spanish for the duration of the meal and we had pretty great conversation. She's thinking about a minor in Spanish and I think that is a smart call.
I came here thinking I wanted to wax poetic on getting old. I had thoughts on bedtimes and card nights and the passage of winter into spring, but I'm at a loss of expression right now. All I know is that as nasty as it is outside, the sparrows and chickadees are singing their spring songs like they know something I do not. I'm in the middle of another season in the middle of my life and there's no place I'd rather be.
No comments:
Post a Comment