A happy day.

Today Anna turns 12. I know blogs are about words, but I don’t have any good ones right now to describe how much I love this child.  She is that special.


Sunday questions.

Here comes Sunday.  Just being here at the beginning of this day creates anxiety.  What is the root of this?  I realize I’m the one who needs to make the adjustment, but I can rarely get it right.   How I can I  make it a better day?

Thoughts on dark and dreary.

The month since Christmas has hustled along.  In another month?  Crocus shoots might appear!  That spring smell might appear!  Good moods might appear!

The end of January is a dreary party.  I don’t have much desire to leave the house.  Bright days are gone and every other day or every schools are delayed or cancelled.   It is7:15 am and I can see no sign of daylight out our windows.  Nothing.

Today, though, I’ll fight these blahs.  I will play music, find serenity in the peeling of the living room wallpaper, and wait eagerly for the bookcase doors to arrive this afternoon.  I will get caught up with work work and keep listening and listening to music.  Tonight I will meet some friends uptown and we will talk about snow days, spouses, and babies lost, and we’ll say our good nights to each other feeling lifted.

Early thoughts.

Just look!

The next step is to prep the wall for painting, pick colors for the wall, and paint the wall over the weekend.  One wall at a time doesn’t seem so bad.  It’s tackling the whole living room that is intimidating.  But prepping the wall involves removing wallpaper, and if there’s anything I DO enjoy about paint prep, it’s getting at that wallpaper and peeling it off.

Earlier this week I bought sweetened condensed milk as a treat to go in my coffee, and I’m not sure it’s the delight I once found it to be.  Too sweet, not creamy enough.

Charlotte is an early bird this morning.  Before 5:30, she was asking politely to get up.   I tried to get her to return to sleep but she was past that point so I agreed to get up with her.  She went into her bedroom and dressed as if she were going to a party, right down to dressy white Sunday School shoes.  Now she’s up, watching “Cyberchase,” and is already a little cranky.  So am I, though, to have to share the quiet morning before a day of people in the house.

What’s the point in wallowing, though?  At least I’m not frustrated by yet another two-hour delay because of black ice and freezing drizzle.  That’s for school folks, and we are not school folks anymore, and every day I am more and more grateful for this.