Home Cold Home

It's truly good to be home. We forgot some things, like how much we love this house. Even Ess and Gee skipped with joy to see their 'jumping couches' in the basement and their shelves of books and all the pictures in their room. It's so touching to watch them remember, really remember, things. Like which seats are theirs at the table (woe unto the man or beast that sits in the wrong chair). Our neighbors. The children of some extremely close friends. Their beloved Teacher Glinda, who walks on water and let's them paint with shaving cream (equal miracles in their minds).

I forgot some things. Not forgot, exactly, but definitely allowed their importance to fade in my mind. The close friends I have made here are the soul-feeding, leave-a-hole-in-your-heart-when-they-are-gone kind. I focused so much on who I was leaving behind on Saipan, I lost sight a little of who I had cheering my return. I'm covered in luck and love.

However.

I might be just a little bit bitter about the freezing cold, moistureless climate of our home sweet home. It's not that we've been home five days and my hands are already cracking, my skin itches irrationally and my children's lovely faces are chapped raw where they drool and/or snot on themselves constantly. It's just that, well, yes that and the resurgence of my tub of Eucerin and the smearing of the children ritual that must be reinserted into the bedtime routine.

This beautiful, ancient house is never warm. I wear the same bottom layer shirt for days in a row because I can not bear to remove the last barrier between my skin and the frigid air in the morning. The high tomorrow is 36 degrees. Fahrenheit. The weather woman just had the gall to say, and I quote, "tomorrow looks nice and clear, except for that freezing fog in the morning." Peachy then, I'll plan on catching some rays when that freezing fog burns off, which usually happens around three.

But, you didn't come here to hear me whine, did you? No. Although, whining can be amusing. Especially anonymous whining. If you disagree, you should check out the new brain child of Marinka and ShallowGal, Secret Spineless Whine. It's as funny as they are.

Beep. Beep. Beep. This is an activation of the inappropriate content alert system. This is not a test, repeat, this is not a test. To all fathers, brothers-in-laws, friends of Matt and friends of my mother. You may not want to click on that link, unless you are incredibly curious about how the cold affects my nipples. Yes, those nipples, the ones on my breasts. Beep. Beep. Beep.

That seems like a good place for me to exit. I probably just lost a lot of you to the nipple thing anyway.

Wait. Always end on a positive. I have unpacked five of eight suitcases, including all wet bathing suits. Both grandmas and my sister went fabulously nuts at the winter sales and all three kids have new, warm, adorable clothes. Ess and Gee are still sleeping until 8:00 a.m. Finally, chai tea lattes. Heaven on earth.