I don’t feel like I have a lot to say today. Or yesterday. Maybe the day before that either. Huh. I see a pattern forming. Life is moving on here and things are good. We are continually working on enjoying the moment and not rushing on to some eventual (and fictitious) finish line. There is an unimaginable amount of work involved in this new philosophy of ours, but it seems to be worth it.
I am not very happy with winter. Not at all. It has us taking to our room shortly after the boys go to bed, instead of spending time outside running or on the back porch, or doing anything constructive at all. It is cold and dark, and the cold and dark seems to beckon me, prompting me to do exactly nothing.
Todd and I started talking about writing a book. A history book. I think we may actually do something with this idea, as it appeals to me in a big way. Unlike the sports ideas of late last year, which I have tried to wrap my tiny brain and heart around, but have just not been able to latch on to yet. Perhaps we can use these long winter months in a USEFUL manner instead of wasting them away watching old episodes of Nip/Tuck and Friday Night Lights. Although, they are so very addictive. And trashy. But still, the addictive.