This is what 4F (-15C) looks like:
Once again, I hardly mind it. The air is so crisp, so bracing, that it livens your step and gives your cheeks a nice little slap of pink.
(breakfast)
It is, unfortunately, the season for bugs. Not the flying stinging kind, but the ones you get from the person who sneezed right at you. Ones that little boys who just start school catch. Sparrow was drippy last week. I thought he seemed better yesterday, but today, he's feverish and home from school. How a parent must love ibuprofen at times like this! Last I heard the little guy is doing more or less okay. Still, it's a home day for him.
It's a home day for me as well. I have a bunch of calls to make and my mom is set for a little while, so we decide that I'll do my back and forth (between her apartment and the rehab facility) tomorrow. Today, I'll work from home. This also gives me a little time to go back to holiday thinking. The last few days have really put Christmas on the back burner. This morning, it's front and center once again. (In between the phone calls.)
And in the afternoon, I play with Snowdrop.
She reaches for favorite books and then she decides that a really great accomplishment would be to cut up a post-it note into a million pieces and scatter them on the floor.
But Snowdrop, why?
The floor is hungry. This is its food.
It's not hungry for bits of paper. Who will clean it up?
You will. With my help. I'm going to cut out a broom for you!
She is disappointed with her finished product.
Gaga, I drew a great broom, but I'm just not good at cutting it out perfectly!
It does not have to be perfect -- I say this wondering how I could possibly demonstrate to her that an imperfect paper broom is good enough. Luckily, as she slumps at the kitchen table, she notices the jar of honey. She is newly inspired.
Gaga, can we make pancakes?
Yes we can. Do you want a particular shape?
A snowman!
Okay...
With a hat!
Okay...
Make that hat bigger, Gaga!
Snowdrop, there is only so much that I can do with pancake batter....
Good enough!
(glance out the playroom window at sunset...)
Eventually I drive her home. I look in at the poor sick face of her little brother, I chat with my daughter, and then I return to the farmette, where I throw together a classic low-key farmhouse supper of eggs, a slice or two of smoked salmon, wilted greens, mushrooms and whatever leftover I have on hand -- in this case, a yam that's been hanging around here since Thanksgiving. My, but that holiday seems like it was ages ago!
Once again, I hardly mind it. The air is so crisp, so bracing, that it livens your step and gives your cheeks a nice little slap of pink.
(breakfast)
It is, unfortunately, the season for bugs. Not the flying stinging kind, but the ones you get from the person who sneezed right at you. Ones that little boys who just start school catch. Sparrow was drippy last week. I thought he seemed better yesterday, but today, he's feverish and home from school. How a parent must love ibuprofen at times like this! Last I heard the little guy is doing more or less okay. Still, it's a home day for him.
It's a home day for me as well. I have a bunch of calls to make and my mom is set for a little while, so we decide that I'll do my back and forth (between her apartment and the rehab facility) tomorrow. Today, I'll work from home. This also gives me a little time to go back to holiday thinking. The last few days have really put Christmas on the back burner. This morning, it's front and center once again. (In between the phone calls.)
And in the afternoon, I play with Snowdrop.
She reaches for favorite books and then she decides that a really great accomplishment would be to cut up a post-it note into a million pieces and scatter them on the floor.
But Snowdrop, why?
The floor is hungry. This is its food.
It's not hungry for bits of paper. Who will clean it up?
You will. With my help. I'm going to cut out a broom for you!
She is disappointed with her finished product.
Gaga, I drew a great broom, but I'm just not good at cutting it out perfectly!
It does not have to be perfect -- I say this wondering how I could possibly demonstrate to her that an imperfect paper broom is good enough. Luckily, as she slumps at the kitchen table, she notices the jar of honey. She is newly inspired.
Gaga, can we make pancakes?
Yes we can. Do you want a particular shape?
A snowman!
Okay...
With a hat!
Okay...
Make that hat bigger, Gaga!
Snowdrop, there is only so much that I can do with pancake batter....
Good enough!
(glance out the playroom window at sunset...)
Eventually I drive her home. I look in at the poor sick face of her little brother, I chat with my daughter, and then I return to the farmette, where I throw together a classic low-key farmhouse supper of eggs, a slice or two of smoked salmon, wilted greens, mushrooms and whatever leftover I have on hand -- in this case, a yam that's been hanging around here since Thanksgiving. My, but that holiday seems like it was ages ago!
