Cold. Play.

Oh, hello.

I wanted to photograph something interesting on the way home today to share with you, but alas. I've got nothing. I did, however, see an adorable, floppy-eared goat LAST WEEK whose fur made him look like he was wearing a tiny, brown t-shirt. Perhaps that's a story for another day.

Today was.

Monday.

It actually went well until the hours around 5-6:30. About 2 months ago, I had a pinched nerve in my arm (long, random story) so I've been going to massage therapy once or twice a week. While the massages are good, they are also hard. Knots. Lumps. Bumps. I ache. They hurt. But it is a good hurt. I had one of those, "Please don't touch me" afternoons, but I braved the cold, plastic table and the poking and prodding anyway.

It was dark by the time I left the office, and I called Tim in the car, begging and pleading for a winter home in Southern Florida. He said now is probably not a good time.

I told him I felt cold and wobbley in the parking lot, like an old woman. To which he replied, "Aw, I'm sorry baby."

He is a good husband.

I came home and said, "Hello." to Beezus (our pet mouse). He peeked his little nose out and went back in his hole as if to say, "Baby, it's cold out there." (Even though he lives in our dining room). He is a spoiled mouse, but he is furry and silly and kind and his face warms my heart.

We made burritos and kissed in the kitchen and it was one of those kisses where you just let yourself get kissed. You know it's okay if you don't kiss back. The other person just knows that you are ice cold and feeling a bit crumbley and that you just need time. That is the kind of safety you get when you finally say, "I do."

Two burritos and 30 minutes later, Tim was finally able to pry me out of my wool coat (seriously) but only at the promise of a quilt and a space heater.

It has just been one of those nights.

So, here we are watching Coldplay "Live" on television and doing nothing. Together. Eventually, I will make coffee and grade papers and thaw out, but for now, I will leave you with a picture and one thought. This is a picture of two of my bestest friends crammed in a phonebooth in Southern California. On the way home tonight, I was dreaming of warmer days and missing the two of them something fierce and this picture instantly flashed in my mind.

All I've got to say is, "Move along, January. Move along."

Secondly, I feel a need to leave you with some kind of substance. Enough with this burrito-goat-space heater nonsense.

Many of you know, I am an investigative sponge lately- a sponge I tell ya'! I have been snooping and digging around for any information I can find about everything from travel to home decor' to motherhood. I want to know pretty much anything from anyone who has done...anything.

I was talking with my mom a while back about money and babies and careers and How They [my parents] Made it Work. She said, "We quit eating out as much...I made a lot of things from scratch...we kept our eye on the big picture."

I have fallen in love with a blog that I will share with you later, but in it, the author writes letters to her unborn daughter. She says they don't have much (and to try to forget about the pony they've already promised) but they have ideas for adventures and a teeny tiny apartment and a whole lot of love.

Now, there's an example of Someone Who Gets The Big Picture.

So, when I finally am an old woman instead of a whiny, too cold, 20 something, I hope people are able to look at me and say the same thing. I hope I am able to finally let the little things go. The dishes that don't get unloaded. The shoes I really, really, really wanted and oh-so-many other things.

(((sigh)))

Love, H.