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Not Ready for the Chill

1 year ago

817 words

Photo: Joy is needle and thread and a little bit of time, resulting in a warm feeling of accomplishment when it all comes together. Yes, these guys will be “colored in” but not until after I get all of the elements of the pillow outlined. What a delightful distraction.

 

It was 28 degrees outside this morning. 28.

I’m not ready.

Cold means stuff and a different level of organization than I’ve had to have during these warm seasons because there are extra layers that need to be put on, and cold comes with tiny pieces akin to the lego sets I keep stepping on around here. Hats, gloves (“no, I don’t want the gloves, I want the mittens”), mittens (“He has the mittens, so I want mittens, too”), boots (“they are two small. My feet hurt!”) and, eventually, snow pants. Of course, boys have to zip up before walking out to the car (“How many times do I have to tell you to zip before you put on your gloves?” “They aren’t gloves! They’re mittens!”), so that takes longer. And did you know that it is recommended that kids take off their puffy coats and stuff before being strapped into their car seat? Yup. So, we struggle here in the house and then we struggle out there in the van.

Lordy.

The van and the new commute complicate things. The biggest thing that the van complicates is the preheating process: those big-ass side doors let all of the warm air out in a big, instant, giant whoosh ! I get it, the sliding doors are incredibly convenient, and I would even go so far as to say that I love them, but… I don’t know what I’m going to do about that. I think tomorrow we’re going to have a drill: open the door, get into the van and then press the button before the door opens all the way. That’s gonna be a disaster. I don’t even know why I’m bothering. Bet you they’re experts by the first below-zero day, though!

Here in the farmhouse, the radiators are back in service. I love their banging and clanging, their wonderful hissing. I’m very proud to say that we have yet to have our first oil delivery of the season! Our good fortune will not last much longer. I don’t even want to know what the first tank will cost us (last year, it was in the $400 range… maybe even closer to $500, but that was for filling it up when it was practically empty). Last year, the guy warned us that we are going to have to replace our tank soon. I’m dreading what he’s going to say this year. If we could get this tank to last us one more year, that would be idea. But, as you know, now that I’ve typed it, everything is going to go sideways at the first fill up!

I’m going to stop complaining. The change of the seasons is inevitable, the autumn turned out to be spectacularly beautiful, and my January child loves the snow. You know what he asked me for over the weekend? Ski lessons! Ski lessons, Dear Reader! Who asks for that!? Who wants to strap sticks to their legs and go down steep hills? Who?? And doesn’t he have enough, what with his very expensive guitar lessons? These children expect the world!

I told him I’d look into it. That was good enough for now, but he’ll be back again. There isn’t even snow on the ground, yet!

I know that this post has been about nothing, essentially, but I hope that it has distracted you from the insanity of our country at the moment. I’m exhausted from all of the work I’ve done today, but if I weren’t typing this post, I’d be debating with people on Facebook or refreshing the Washington Post over and over again to try to find the poll I like most that validates my desires and opinions. So if you, even for a moment, thought about a chilly New England morning instead of a candidate, or you imagined Ursa Major as the new skiing champion of the world, then I have done my job and this little nothing post is actually more powerful than I can appreciate. It certainly eased away the knot in the pit of my stomach, at least for a little while.

If you are American, please exercise your right and vote tomorrow. It’s obvious who I support, but I think it’s a sacred privilege to choose who you want to vote for. I won’t tell you to vote for my candidate, but I will hope and pray that you choose her.

No matter what, I’m baking bread on Wednesday morning and I’m writing a post. The sun will rise and the world will spin no matter the outcome.

Until Wednesday, Dear Reader, go vote and then take care.

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