Winter (and Our Dog’s Content)

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this nuisance dog;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Gloucester, Shakespeare’s Richard III (Cedar Folio)

What is a blogger to do when at least half of his audience comes home?

Hand her the leash.

Katie’s out somewhere with Cedar-girl, toting her around town with her also-newly-arrived-home college friends. I suppose the comparison is a bit dramatic, but I’ll make it anyway (since I may have no readers left): I feel a bit like a singlehanded sailor hitting port for the first time in months.

I walk across the kitchen. No footsteps. I go to the bathroom. Solitude, from sit to flush. I come home from a hard ski (and frozen locks and help from amazing Juneau friends as frozen Tom was starting to become a thing), and I don’t have to go for a walk in the darkness. Hot tub and quiet. Whoa.

And Tim hasn’t stepped on her or run her over yet. Although he did smash her head in the front door and accidentally lock her in the garage.

It’s cold here. Clear for days and real winter. And so nice to have both kids home. I’ve been brooding a bit–must be some combo of the short days and my Norse genes–so it’s nice to just take inventory of all the goodness.

In case my other reader (who bears responsibility for those Norse genes) tunes in, I thought I’d share a few moments from the past couple of days, made glorious, honestly, by the return of the kids.