lately

I wouldn't quite say life has been unblogworthy lately, but I've been half busy in lunchlady land and half busy drinking in the regular, everyday hours home with my family, and half busy just being pregnant and tired and into too many tv shows.  (Which equals one and a half busys, so you see what I mean.)  Life has been moving a bit slow, perhaps -- but every day is touched by moments of complete joy.  Owen's goofy voice parroting everything that's said; Bobby's sweet cocked-head 'i love you' smile; fires in our log cabin; eating and playing in fresh fluffy snow; so many snuggles and sillies.  What more should I ask for?

I'm still rocking it as a lunch lady five, sometimes six, times a week.  Mostly it's awful, but I try to make what I can from it.  Midweek is usually slow, so I have plenty of down time while my macaroni and cheese warms.  Which means: I read, I write, I play guitar (thanks to one ski instructor who leaves hers in the building).  I chat with people -- all kinds of people.  The best part: I speak Spanish all the time with the Argentinian and Chilean instructors.  It's a little like free re-education; I get more practice than I did in college, and far more than I have anytime since then.  So, while I can't say I'm not desperately longing for spring, I'm trying my best to soak up something good where I am now.  (Or at least I'll soak up all the cocoa machine spillage.)

It's been darn cold most of this winter.  Some mornings I walk up the base of the mountain from my car and I breathe in the frozen air and watch the sun sparkle through the snowflakes shaken from the branches of the pines, and I think that it must be so peaceful and magical to be alone on skis lost in the powdery trails.  And then my boogers freeze solid in my nose and I hasten my step just a bit more.  Skiing does seem fun -- but mostly I'm of the opinion that skiiers are completely bonkers.

The boys are a little lame about playing in the snow; they may have inherited my cold-wimp gene.  (Also, they're still little I suppose.)  When we ask if they want to go out they'll answer, "Sure, I'd love to -- after rest time I think," (that's Pupper), and "Not zet," (that's Wooden).  But we have managed to drag them out a few times, and it always feels good, even if it doesn't last long.