2013

I'd like to make a promise and say I'll write more before the year is out, but knowing myself, I'm just not going to do that.  It won't happen.

To tell you the truth, I'm writing a novel in my head every night before I go to sleep.  I was never a big fiction writer until after college... interesting how that happened.  I miss writing.  I need to sit down and do it more, but I have so much else going on that I feel I can't justify the time, which is sort of silly to me.

Anyway, December is good here because it's not as cold as Utah, but we've still had some snow.  Enough that my generally seasonally-confused self can finally recognize that it's Christmas time and soon it will be January.

Most days, I spend my time with my girls and making various things while they play together and need me occasionally.  I rearrange things, I talk to my dogs, I talk to my girls, I look out the window, I get the mail.  Most days, I don't go anywhere because we're sharing my car right now.  I'm ok with that--my days are pretty simple, and if I said I hope for more, I'd be lying. 

This is the season of my life.  I have such an urge to create, make, do, be more, be better, come up with new things, and sometimes, it hurts.  Most times, it's the norm.  I don't mind because if it means I get to spend time with my sweet and helpful little Ruby and fire-y yet calm little Emmy, I will certainly take it.  They are just my world spinning.

Ruby is killing me with sweetness lately.  She's so helpful at picking up her toys, and every morning, we watch Sesame Street.  She understands that Emmy HAS to sit on my lap because Emmy is a mama's girl more deeply in the mornings, but to compensate, she'll lean her head against my arm.  She's beginning to repeat words I say, like AMEN! or "Emma" for Emmy--she doesn't ever end things in "y. "Puppy" is "puppa" and "daddy" is "dada," etc.  She loves to give kisses and loves to kiss her snuggie (blanket).  She blows kisses and waves to everyone and is VERY social.  Loves her dada and her puppies.

Emmy, on the other hand, is a tough cookie.  She climbs on top of our table on the regular and generally gets into trouble climbing things, trying to climb things, getting into things.  She has this squeak-laugh that just about does me in; it's funny, though, because you can try so hard to get her to laugh and you'll get NOTHING.  You have to earn it with Emerson.  But when she loves you, she LOVES you. She loves talking to plants on our walks and talking to me in jumbled talk, which both she and Ruby do.  I really think they have their own twin language, because it's all nonsense to anyone else who hears it.  Yet, there's a lot of head-nodding that goes on between the two of them when it happens.  Anyway, Emmy is a tender little girl.  She puckers her lips all the time for kisses and says "hiya" regularly, which I LOVE.  She spots and talks about puppies everywhere we go, and she'll say "a puppy?" Over and over again, even when I haven't seen one anywhere.  I'll look and finally spot the dog (a ways away) she's talking about--she's hilarious.

Ruby above, Emmy below.

This year has been the best of the best and the worst of the worst, all rolled into one.  Confusing, hard, soul-searching and heartbreaking... it's been one of those years that's just been everything.  I'm glad to say I lived it. 

A little while ago,

I was in the car with my sister and brother-in-law.  Mid-January.  Anyway, my brother-in-law, driving, says, "It's officially past the middle of January."

And my sister says, "That means we have less of January to make it through than we've already had.  Then it's February which is just fun (it's fun, right? It's short). And then March, which is spring break and then we're basically HOME FREE!"

I had to laugh.  They're talking about winter.  I, personally, don't love winter because it really releases my inner neuroses.  I am horrified to drive any distance longer than a few miles in snow (because of a car accident we were in which just ruined me) and being cooped up inside isn't always my favorite thing, though I am a homebody.

Lately, we've just been staying home a ton.  Besides the snow storm which hit this weekend--which I kind of liked, actually, because at least we're not below zero in the middle of the day, AND there's something so charming about swirling snow--winter kinda stinks for those of us who are non-winter sports sort of people.  That, and my housband had to drive to Lehi (which, on a good day, is a little more than an hour and a half away) on Monday for a job interview.  Said drive took him FOUR HOURS.  So that was fun.

My favorite thing, though, and we're getting to the meat of it, is something my brother calls "the breath of spring."  Ah.  Spring.  I love it.  It's my favorite season.  The hope that abounds with spring is totally priceless.  And now you're wondering what it is, aren't you?

The breath of spring is an idea that, in the bleak mid-winter (yep, I just borrowed that), you capture a moment.  A moment, however fleeting--a snitch of blue sky, a little sun on your neck, a warm breeze--and it hits:  spring is coming.  Maybe not right now, not while the ice is so thick on the sidewalk it's a mini-rink, not when the snow is falling, falling, falling, and certainly not when you're uncovering your car of snow only to have it covered back up by the time you're done, but it's coming. 

Also?  I get a lot of emails every day.  I like to (window) shop online.  I just got this one from Old Navy telling me about a nice shirt I should probably (but won't) buy, and it also featured some lovely shoes.  Spring and summer shoes. 

THESE shoes.  And I remembered that sometimes there's weather that doesn't require pants and three jackets and gloves and hats. 

You guys.  It's coming.

In the meantime, I'm making a lot of flowers, bundling up in a blanket, watching movies, and turning up the heat. 

Going rogue; or, why does my body hate me?

Sooo.... I got really sick a few weeks ago--around Valentine's day-ish.  Fevers, full-body rash (very pleasant) (still hasn't gone away) (benadryl is my best friend), and general malaise.  Basically, my body was rejecting me.  Going rogue, if you will.  Without me.  I missed two weeks of work from feeling generally awful, and the verdict?  LARYNGITIS.

That is the lamest excuse I have ever heard in my life, and I didn't even lose my voice.  I was tested for mono, strep throat, then liver problems (because I have been so uncontrollably itchy, which, apparently, is tied to liver problems)... Anywho, it nearly killed me, but I'm not dead yet (yes, I'm being dramatic), and I've been doing a lot of things around my house.  I'd take pictures, but I can't, not yet--at least until I get it all to the point where I'm satisfied.  I was on a roll, and then I got sick.  And now I'm not very inspired.  Isn't that how it goes?

It's funny though--there's some freedom in being sick; in staying home and concentrating all your efforts on just feeling better.  I feel as though I push myself really hard a LOT of the time, so when my body breaks down, that's about the only time I feel okay with sitting around and watching TV nonstop. 

Besides that, I've just been working a lot and trying to stay afloat as life is just busy.  I often wish it weren't so busy, but summer seems to be the time when things will slow down for us.

 

And here are my peeps, same old, same old.  Covered in snow.

4 times, 4 months

Just to keep a running tally:  this winter, I've been sick four times in four months.

How is that even possible?