I’m not sure how it works for other people, but the truth of the matter is that I find it harder to find things to write about when I’m content.
I am content.
Sure, the weather is cold, but it isn’t horrible (Vix– I’d never cut it in Canada. I am convinced.). And there are chores to do, such as the dishes that don’t wash themselves and the sheets that don’t lay themselves flat on the bed. And the plants that need a tender loving hand to die, bloated and overwatered and in dire need of a repotting that is not going to happen because it’s too freaking cold to garden. (I’m sorry, little tree we rescued from Home Depot: you will have to wait).
Today the baby was so very cute when he woke up: every morning for the past couple of weeks, Herr Meow wakes up and starts asking what the things around him are named. Sometimes he gets his vocabulary in Spanish, sometimes in English. It’s a sweet way to start the morning, seeing that chunky little finger pointing and smiling and trying to repeat words that must sound so very weird, like "lámpara" or "tansu" or "telephone." After morning cuteness, we had a long and leisurely breakfast while doing a few gravity checks (him) and the sudoku (me). Then we flitted away to rendezvous with Yoga Mom and Yoga Baby and SoloMother and the King of Everything. We had a lovely time drinking something warm and eating and forcing our cute-but-rambunctious progeny on the über sophisticates at Murky Coffee.
(An aside: if you want the world to think you are very, very pretentious and want to broadcast that aura that says "I think my poop smells like organic strawberry ice cream," order yourself a Caffè Americano. An Americano –for those not in the know– is a drink whereupon one ruins a shot of espresso by adding hot water to it. In other words, it’s a more expensive way of getting a regular cup of coffee, method notwithstanding– named because Italians thought it tasted like American diner coffee [and therefore lame]. And in my experience –and believe you me, I have plenty of coffeeshop-people-watching experience– usually only assholes order Americanos. This is not to say that you couldn’t be a completely nice and average and unpretentious person who happens to also drink Americanos…. um. Wait. That’s exactly what I’m saying.)
(Another aside: I only recommend ordering Americanos if you know the house coffee is going to suck– because most respectable coffee houses will have nicer espresso beans even if their house blend beans are el cheapo.)
(Aside #3: Yes. I have been *that* kind of asshole.)
Walking back, it felt cold but pleasantly so. The baby fell asleep and I was able to do some actual paying work (shock!). My flourless chocolate cake came out awesome yesterday so I thought I’d share a picture, but no matter how good, it refused to show its good side:
The baby loves his toddler bed and I got a fair amount of sleep.
The neighborhood is calm –no sirens, no workmen– and it’s warmed up a little (almost 40ºF!).
I hung out with friends and squeezed in an errand.
The gossip rags have not angered me today (coz I haven’t read ’em yet).
Today I didn’t even have to use my AK.
I gotta say, today is a good day.