snOMG

Such a potpourri of what-I-choose for this weekend. The snow that measures up to my hips hasn't limited me. Have chosen to participate in tripping over snowbanks in a pair of my mom's too short fleece pants and $7 boots. Have burrowed into the middle of the front lawn, reminding myself just how nice the close cocoon of deep snow can feel. Have tracked clots of snow back into the house with me, spraying wetness off my legs and shoulders just the way the dog does. Have also spent hours--HOURS--sitting at the window watching the snow birds dart up to and around the birdfeeder. The length of this is particularly impressive for me, who struggles to sit still long enough to watch an entire movie or read more than a dozen pages of a book. But those birds! I cannot get enough of their tiny round bodies and quizzical hops. They never bore me! I can't help but pick favorites. Mom and I got halfway through a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. I've exhausted my entire repertoire of appropriate chords on the piano. I've used a soup ladle to clear snow off the windowsills and I've taken afternoon naps and long snowy wet walks down my parents' country road. It has been three days since I've bothered to put in my contact lenses, and two since I've bothered to put on a bra. I've been eating grilled cheese sandwiches and have stuffed whole handfuls of snow into my mouth, because there's nothing quite like that. I want to light a fire in the fireplace. I think I will this evening, with dad's help, and I'll sit and crochet and watch the flames. Like when watching the birds, I won't have inner timers going off at intervals. I could stay for hours.