Lovelihood

Growing up in the Bay Area we had zero snow days that I can recall. I'm sure there was a slushy day here or there, and plenty of mornings with stubborn rimy coats on windshields and shrubbery. But having been in the Northwest for the past decade and a half (minus that couple of years in much warmer climes) the novelty of snow has pretty well worn off, replaced with the annoyance at the interference with my marathon training, and dread at the prospects of Monday morning commute. Still, with the right camera phone filters, it can be pretty.

It was cold enough this morning that the bucket that had remained out on the back deck busily filling itself up with rainwater had frozen itself into a near solid block of ice. By the time we returned home from school in the afternoon all that remained was a floating sliver with a heart shaped divot melted out of it.

Ever since reading about some ultra-sweet glabrous apricots, I've been suffering a mild obsession with finding one for myself. The ones I picked up at Trader Joe's were just of a typical fuzzy, un-glamorous variety. But they were un-mealy, giving off a nice little tartness, and in the torturous half hour it took to cook up and cool off the mac 'n cheese bites, also picked up at TJ's, Bear convinced me to cut up another two to augment the pre-lunch snack we'd made of the first two apricots.

It'd been so long since I'd been on the sewing machine that I couldn't remember what the Teflon foot was doing on there. Also, I know that in an ideal world, the needle would get changed out for every new project. I'd just be less embarassed if I could manage to switch it out more often then I get my hair cut.

In college I went through a sweater vest phase. A few years later it was hats. Another couple of years and it was all dress pants all the time. And then, yes, there was the dress over pants look. Of late, I've been rocking what I've been calling my cowgirl librarian style, which this inveterate city girl takes to mean some combination of boots, skirt/dress, cardigan and sweater tight.

Sometimes a photo doesn't take (at 3 bucks a pop) and becomes, instead, the dry-erasable backdrop to an impromptu love note.

We're not the type to have snack time written into the schedule. But when Bear wanders into the kitchen and demands an orange, we're happy to oblige. And when the kids fight over who gets to sit closer to the dish of pre-peeled slices, well, we just sit back and chuckle at the absurdity of children fighting over fruit.