The Coming of Lasts

It was the day of my book club last week, possibly my last time to meet with them since my swim class will fall at the same time as book club in March and April. (Wow. Possibly my last.) I hadn't finished the book yet. The family taxi had delivered both Britt and Ava to their schools, and I was taking myself home. I parked my car facing "my" part of the mountains, whose highlights were a little less evident that day than they had been the day before. Sprigs of grass were beginning to poke through the remaining snow. I felt the passage of time...the coming of "lasts." I choked up. I felt an unexpected (and premature) twinge of homesickness. And not for Texas. For home.

Home is here now.

Rapidly approaching is the life change that will send us back to square one. Again. And not here. Last time there was a promise attached that if I didn't like it there, I would only have to give three years of my life to that place. This time not so much. It's open-ended. This is sort of "it." The thing we've been looking forward to together for eight years...finally settling in somewhere we don't intend to leave for a long, long time.

Our time here, while brief, has been valuable in so many ways. When we arrived, I liked it here well enough, but I certainly didn't see what all the big fuss was about. This city is lacking a lot of things I had grown to expect. (At least they finally got a Target.) I figured I would like it here fine but that I'd be so glad to get back "home" to Texas by the end of three years. Even after a whole year living here, I still thought that. But something happened during our second year here to change that. Friends. I looked up one day and realized I had a little family of friends here now, and suddenly I didn't feel so alone. And one of those friends forced me out onto the sea of confusing spaghetti roads in areas of town I'd never dared to explore alone the year before. I started knowing my way around a little more confidently. I started feeling like we live here. And then we finally found a church...and more friends. Life was weaving us an even stronger support net. And we were home, even if it took two years to feel it. (I know that it may take that long again and to be patient; it will be okay.) Living here has taught me to live someplace new to me. Anywhere, USA. So I know going into this cross-country move that I can do this. And I can do it better this time.

But it still makes me homesick to think about it.

Notes to Self: Creative Food Prep

If your two-year-old ever wants you to make a cake in the shape of a specific musical instrument, this can be done. First, put on your thinking cap and draw a picture (or find one on the web). Be sure you have fancy icing tools and plenty of time. Oh, and don't expect to get much sleep the night before the party. But it will be worth all the effort and sleep deprivation when you see sheer joy on your three-year-old's face as she realizes that you pulled off her dream cake.

Never use colored icing spray (like spray paint for cakes). Disgusting. Smells like machine oil...surely that's not good to ingest. If you choose to try it again anyway, be prepared to scrape the toxic icing off and throw it in the trash.

If you decide to make apples into super cute hearts for a classroom of preschoolers to have for Valentine snack, acknowledge your own creative idea and then move on to something easier. If you choose to do it again anyway, don't start at 10PM.

And next time you choose to cut flour tortillas into hearts, wear industrial-strength cooking gloves or something similarly protective. Surely Martha Stewart makes said product. Your hands will thank you.

But the next time you decide to make a pizza in the shape of a heart for Valentine's Day, go right ahead (assuming you were making pizza from scratch anyway). Your three-year-old will love making it into a happy face heart which she can then name "Mr. Daddy Pizza." (And come on, what a creative use of asparagus! Good idea, Ava! She's a child after my own heart.)

Angry

I knew better. I bravely (or foolishly) updated to the new Blogger layout interface, and it is driving me crazy that I can't manipulate it to be set up the way I had it before! I didn't have the forethought to open a page of my blog as it was (for comparison purposes) before I allowed Blogger to update me to the new layout. FRUSTRATION!

Snow Angels and Happy Memories

There was an untouched blanket of snow near our apartment yesterday. We had pretty much destroyed the areas in front of our porch, but this area beside the building was still begging for attention. Begging me, in fact, for a snow angel. I don't know if I've ever made a snow angel before. I probably tried sometimes when I was little, but an inch of snow barely covers the grass, and that's hardly enough snow to make a good angel. So this was my chance. FLOP. Down I went. Hard. I felt like a kid again, swinging my arms and legs to and fro. Twenty years removed from my snow angel-making prime, it required some doing to get up without sabotaging my efforts! All morning I had been wondering why my back hurts so much today, and then it hit me. The ground. The ground is why my back hurts so much...but oh, what a snow angel! And this may be my last snow angel for a long, long time, so it was worth a few days of aching. There's something to be said for feeding one's spirit too.



Ava was disappointed that the snow wasn't right for making a snow man. And she didn't like riding the sled we ran out and bought the last time it was supposed to snow. So we made snow soup, and fruity bran muffins...and of course, snow angels. There was a whole choir of them by the time Ava got finished. :) The muffin tin was a hit. We could pack the snow well enough in the muffin tin to mold it, then put them in the (deck box) "oven" to cook. When the beeper beeped, we'd flip the tin on the sidewalk to dump the muffins out to cool, leaving little knobs of snow on the sidewalk. Ava promptly asked each time, "Mommy, can I smash 'em!?" I think stepping on the muffins was her favorite part of the day. (And maybe mine.) It was just irresistable to her. You could hear it in her voice.

Meanwhile, back on the hill... Britt was like a big kid going down our slope on the new sled. He was pleased with his tracks, and quite miffed when I ruined one of them, crashing right into the electrical box. It's harder to steer that thing than it looks! I much preferred riding with him. It was exhilarating! I loved it, but I decided he loved it more, so I should be the parent and play with Ava and let him go on his merry way, in search of an even better hill.

I'll miss the snow.

Just to ensure disappointment...

I updated my blogs and links. Haven't done that in at least a year or so. Ginger's blog changed back in the summer. Anyway, Blogger is about to force me to change to the new interface, where I'm sure my template will get jerked around. I have little faith that it will be seamless. I am bracing for the losses, as I am not able to get the ol' blog printed as of yet. We shall see...

What on earth am I doing up?