Oh. Many things. Which are all nothing, in truth.

Still, I choose to cling to the imminent running away in our car to the South, just the two of us. And I try to remember to actively appreciate these things that so easily (& so unjustifiably) overwhelm.

It's so in my blood to live far away from home. I wish it wasn't, but it is.

Hello!Family not seen for three months. Enormous dinner. Raining snow. Endless treats.
A new best friend named Holga.

Tonight: A local microbrewery in an old barn (if you knew where I grew up, you'd know how enormously wonderful this is) with my brother, sister-in-law, and friends.

Yay.

Out in TO last night. A friend's daughter's ballet. Cozy, insanely delicious dinner and wine. Fantastic conversation. A long, warm, 2am drive home with someone else's well stocked iphone in my hands.
I love these time so, so much.

Today, up after four hours of sleep, I am tired. And unmotivated re: doing things that would help that, like making dinner. I must conjure up enough energy to pay bills and do the last of the (speedy-delivery) xmas shopping. And then I'm promptly curling up on this rug,
on these heated (heavenly) floors, with a book, and pajamas, and calling it a night.

Such motivation, this one.

Two for one: I just washed pine pitch off my hands with Grand Marnier. I am officially the coolest person I know.

Now to make dinner and drink beer next to the fire in the barn. Yes, please.

Last night D made oatmeal and I swore, from the other room, that someone was cooking roast beef in our vegetarian kitchen. Today, whatever he had for lunch, it's the same thing. It's been almost 12 years now and I'm starting to crave it. Uh oh?

Also on the food/not food theme, how do you make a homemade loaf of bread that ages well? I can make a killer loaf of bread, but it's still subject to homemade=drying out after a day or so. I know it's not all preservatives; there's an organic place on the island that made the best-aging bread I've ever had. I must know.

That is all.

Dear life,
Come on.
Gah.
K.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Today is up. Today I find answers easily and write them in my journal for safe keeping. For the next down. That's as specific as this space will ever get; but suffice to say that I yearn for the day when up, again, significantly outnumbers its counterpart. In the meantime, I celebrate these little victories. By smearing thin cinnamon cookies with organic peanut butter, and smiling.

There is much snow all around our small house. I haven't lived in the woods since I was all of 18, and things like the true darkness of winter, or the beauty of such vast untouched snow keep appearing as though I've never seen them in my life. I am grateful for these re-discoveries.

This weekend I intend to honour them from the warmth of this space, lingering in pajamas for as long as possible, drinking copious amounts of spicy masala chai, not showering, curled up in front of the radiator with the following pieces of this week's library haul:
Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude
Naomi Wold's Promiscuities
Coupland's Generation A
& the Jaina Tattvartha Sutra
I am greatly excited by this.

Enjoy your weekend, folks.