Daylight Savings Time

I'm keeping warm with a scarf, a baby belly, and slippers.
My knitting sits on the coffee table, waiting patiently.
Emme claims the blanket on the end of the couch as her own.
This is what happens when the afternoon turns gray.

It is 3:34 p.m. here in Iowa.

I just turned on lights in the living room because it was getting dark. Hard to tell whether the darkness is due to last weekend's time change or whether it is due to a thick, gray mass of clouds that have settled in over the town.

It always takes me a few days to adjust to the time change in the fall. Mornings, instead of looking like dark nighttime, look instead like faintly-lit gray hazes that make you wonder whether it is morning or evening; early daytime or late-afternoon cloud cover. Afternoons turn dark sooner than expected, and night falls earlier, fooling you into thinking that the day has come and gone more quickly than you expected. It takes me a few days of this to settle into it, to get to a place where I don't feel so disoriented and unsure of the time and rhythm of the day.

And then, as I settle in, something switches in me, and I get it. I remember what winter is like, and I understand the new feel of the day, and I remember the parts of my own self that get tucked away when we spring our clocks forward in March.

In other lifetimes, I gave myself an October threshold for listening to Advent and Christmas music. These days, I hold out until at least the start of November. This year, for whatever reason, I didn't even start thinking about it until last week, when I started loading up playlists onto my iPod in preparation for labor and delivery later this month, and I programmed myself a copious amount of Christmas music for those forthcoming hours.

I forget that we've passed Halloween already, and that Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away. My usual rush to embrace autumn feelings and flavors has been a little slow this year.

Perhaps because while the seasons change around me, and the time changes, and the sun sets earlier in the afternoon, my mind is not on the seasons themselves, or on holidays or traditions or even the bits and pieces of nostalgia that late fall and early winter dig up in me.

For the whole span of time we've lived in Iowa, time has been pressing ahead toward only one thing: the birth of this much-loved, much-awaited hedgehog of a baby, whose due date is just two weeks away. Thanksgiving this year will either be a celebration of a very new newborn, or the last few days of a very very uncomfortable pregnant lady. Christmas feels like forever away, because something as big as HAVING A BABY needs to happen between now and then. The whole fall has been a time of talking about this eventual baby and making initial plans and preparations, except that we are now in the last days, and the things that needed to get done "sometime this fall" now need to get done today and this week and as soon as we can manage them.

Today, though, Daylight Savings Time finally caught up to me in a useful way. As I sat here on the couch, watching the grayness of the afternoon creep in through the windows, I felt this urge for something to happen. Tired of waiting, I felt ready for a holiday, or ready for some nostalgia. Ready to knit and make soup and do autumnal things. Ready to scoff a little less at the Thanksgiving and even Christmas commercials on TV. I am ready for something to happen. Ready to meet this baby, or to eat some stuffing, or to start sorting through the Christmas decorations that we might put up right after Thanksgiving with family members who will be coming to see us. I'm okay with the wind blowing outside, and with the fact that it might be time to pull out my winter coat, even if I can't zip it up right now. I am ready for something to happen. Babies, holidays, families, cozy nights, anything to reclaim a space for myself that is no longer a space of mere waiting, but a space of anticipation and joy and movement.

Maybe being nine months pregnant makes me a bit of a crazy-lady. Because I'm not sure how a gray afternoon can somehow make me excited rather than depressed. But maybe the weather just reminds me that the seasons are again changing, and that nothing actually stands still in life, and when the quiet of waiting starts to drive you a little nuts, even the world outside can remind you that change is always on the horizon, and those things that you've been waiting for will indeed come, and all the days that you've been counting will indeed lead to something new and interesting and beautiful.

Late August and heavy

My phone says that it is 86 degrees outside right now, creeping up to a high of 90. It is sunny and humid. The air feels hotter and heavier than 86, or even 90. Drive north or south two hours from here, and the temperature climbs to the mid-nineties. It does no matter that school has been in session for a week now. The weather does not care that our hearts and minds are in autumn. The weather, after being so mild for so many months, has decided to be SUMMER. The very week after the pool has closed for the season.

Thank goodness for a powerful - if noisy - window air conditioner that chills my office in five minutes flat. And thermal water bottles filled with ice water. I'm wearing one of the lightest, coolest dresses that still fits over my belly, and my skin is cool to the touch. But the heat is still making itself known. The sun and humidity, even on the outside of my cool windows, manage to seep into my body and destroy my energy levels. My body feels heavy and tired in that way specific to summer languor.

Meanwhile, the exhausting effects of summer heat are lost on dear little hedgehog, who seems to have spent all day yesterday and the day before resting up for a day full of action. Thumps and tumbles and twitches galore today. This is endlessly amusing. With every strong movement, I stop what I'm doing, put my hand on my belly, and try to feel what's going on from the outside. Once I've done that, I move my hands and smooth my dress tight over my belly, and watch with curiosity to see whether any of the movements are big enough to see from the outside. (In case you were wondering, yes. Mostly tremors right now. No particular movements or body parts. But plenty of ripples and shakes.)

Today, I am feeling late August in my head and heart and bones. I would love nothing more than to give into the summer heat, turn off my computer, head home to the couch for an air-conditioned nap, interrupted only by long, lazy gazes at my belly, intervals of knitting, and having no housework or dinner plans other than eating strawberries and drinking ice water.

I do not like the heat, please don't get me wrong. I have no nostalgia for humid, sunny, sweaty summer, nor do I have patience for the stifling thickness in the air. But I do know that the hot days of summer are the days that force you to slow down, and make peace, however much you can, with being completely unproductive. The hot days of summer invite you to combat heat with laziness, the heavy ooziness of sinking into a chair in a cool room, your limbs and memory alike feeling heavy and immoveable.

And maybe, right now, the desire to sit and be slow, to focus all my energy on self-care, is a heat-induced desire to save up the quiet moments before hedgehog arrives and all changes. As impatient as I am for his/her arrival, part of my brain knows that the quiet parts of life are about to disappear, and that the luxury of laziness will come to an end. I think that part of me fears losing control over my own destiny - the ability to put off doing the dishes because I don't feel like it, and the ability to sit on the couch and do nothing if I so choose, and the ability to procrastinate.

I suspect my languishing mood will snap once the heat wave snaps, and I know that excitement about this baby already trumps all fears of change. But for today, I really wish that someone would look at me and my drowsy eyes, and tell me to go home, to put my feet up, to take it easy...and that I wouldn't feel guilty for doing so.

Because even though they showed up late, the dog days of summer have yet arrived. It is late August and heavy. And maybe the world would do well to slow itself down, even just for a few days.

How about some rain?

The week thus far has been filled with blue and cloudless skies, warm sunshine, cool breezes, and green signs of life everywhere I look.

The week thus far has been filled with hospital visits and being both pastor and friend to people in times of struggle.

The juxtaposition is a little jarring.

Back in high school English class, I learned the term "pathetic fallacy" while studying Shakespeare; it is a literary device where an author assigns or treats inanimate objects (like the weather!) as if they had human emotions or thoughts. I don't usually think about the weather in real life in terms of pathetic fallacy, but I have to admit that this week, it was weird to have happy weather rather than gloomy weather. Weird to walk out of a hospital building into warm sunshine. Weird to be driving to a hospital through a downtown area full of people walking their dogs and eating ice cream, and teenagers heading to the pool, and everyone sitting around, enjoying the sun.

I mean, this week has been the definition of "when it rains, it pours." So how about even one overnight thunderstorm or something?

Same but different

It is another Saturday morning. I am working on another sermon. I am sitting at another small table nursing a drink for inspiration.

But this time, instead of my usual local Starbucks, I am sitting at one of my favorite places to get a drink: Argo Tea. And if you know anything about Argo, then you know that it doesn't exist in the suburbs (as far as I know).

Yes, I am here in the city. Here in Chicago on a foggy morning, where the tops of building disappear into the clouds and where impending drizzle means that we all have our umbrellas at the ready.

In between writing paragraphs of my sermon, I look up and get a little giddy when I remember that I am sitting here at a little table on Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago, just inside the Tribune building, and right across the street from the Wrigley building.

Matt and I both had the day free yesterday, and we decided to spend it in the city. Yesterday was a big day for us...the day that we would hear whether our first IVF cycle was a success or not. Matt's beautiful idea was to spend the day downtown, and spend the night, and make it a special little getaway. If it was good news, then what a way to celebrate! And if it was bad news, what a nice way to distract ourselves and have some joy even in our disappointment. His plan was genius.

Unfortunately, the news came back negative, which puts us back at the drawing board. Pretty rough news. And yet...news that is much easier to swallow when you receive it while at the Shedd Aquarium, on your way to go see the penguins. That sounds glib, but it's so true.

This weekend has been quite the exercise in focusing on all of the joys and blessings in my life instead of the disappointment of the moment. I remember how much I love this city (a crazy amount, if you couldn't tell), and how I am such a city girl (if that city happens to be Chicago), and how amazing Matt is, and what a blessing our relationship is. Last night, it was a matter of appreciating the simple joy of ordering dessert after dinner in order to wait out a downpour, and then winding our way back to our hotel through wet city streets and bright lights reflecting off puddles. This morning, it is the joy of getting up early, and walking freely around a quiet city. It is watching the people walk by the window as I drink an iced coconut chai and work on a sermon.

Yes, I write poetry.

In honor of today's first major snow, I thought I'd post a poem I wrote last year while we were still living in the city. The fastest bus home from downtown was a few blocks' walk from our apartment. I wrote this poem after a particularly quiet, snowy night walking home from that bus stop.

After Taking the 147 Bus Home
The circle of the earth,
the dome of the heavens,
the separation of day from night
and dark from light:
all reversed tonight,

heaven and earth exchanged
in a moment of frozen baptism
and utmost freshness.

Deepest brightness of the cosmos
drifts to the soil,
holding its breath,
diving below the heights of heavenly hosts
to mingle with the beagles in the park,
who drag their bellies through the new drifts
and kick up snow like feathers falling.

This is the richest silence;

Spirit and light and air
hovering lightly over
the blanket of the earth

and the notion of the
deafening loudness
of unuttered
grace.

I Admit It: I'm Procrastinating

It's an ugly gray wet day today - the night was full of crazy thunder and wild rain - and it's hard to think about getting any work done whatsoever. I mentioned to Matt as I took him to the train this morning that days like today make a good case for putting a TV in the bedroom: you can put on a movie, crawl under the covers, and keep cozy while the rain pounds away.

I could use a cozy, sleepy day today! I slept on the couch half the night, "waiting up" with Matt while he did a whole lot of homework. Then, when we headed to bed for real, I had that terrible realization: I'm getting sick. Boo on going to bed with a sore throat and a headache and being all light-headed and dizzy. And moreover, crazy thunderstorms don't help you stay asleep. I think we both woke up tired and ragged this morning.

Perhaps part of my lack of motivation this morning also comes from having entered the "lame duck" stage of internship. I'm here for three more months, with plenty of tasks to take care of (finishing the planning for the youth mission trip to Denver, coercing someone into being VBS director, helping pick out a Sunday School curriculum for next fall...and more preaching, hospital visits, and the like!). But at the same time, I'm not so involved in longer-term planning anymore. I can put in my two cents about the worship schedule for the fall and for how to re-work confirmation, but I won't be around to be involved in any of it! It's a strange feeling, as if internship were already over, even though it's not!

In the meantime, I'm filling my time with stressing out about the next (and final) steps toward ordination. The hardest part about not getting into PhD programs is having to reorient my thinking about what happens in my life once I leave Rockford after internship. Instead of having the security of going back to school in the fall, I have the double uncertainty of not knowing where I'll be next, nor when I'll begin. Here's what I know: I do all of my final paperwork and meetings this summer, and get put into the assignment pool for the end of September/beginning of October. Which means that by the end of October, I should know where in the country I'm going to be (embedded in that anxiety is hoping that I can petition to restrict to Chicago, since Matt still has one more year of law school there). But then...I wait. And interview with churches. And work with the bishop to end up at a good fit church for my first call. Meaning that I could be in my first call soon after regional assignment...or not for a while, depending on how things go.

It's anxiety-provoking. In life, I've made peace with figuring out my life year-to-year, understanding that until Matt and I finish our education and settle down somewhere, I don't have the luxury of planning terribly far into the future. But the approval/assignment/first call process means that I'm living month-to-month! That's hard! When I'm done with internship, do I find a part-time job to fill the time until first call? And what sort of job do I look for, knowing that I could be there four months or six months or eight months or who knows how long? And what if my petition for geographic restriction isn't granted? What if I have to move to somewhere else in the country before Matt can join me? Because I don't so much want to live apart anymore. We've been married for 3 years, and have spent over a full year of that time living in different places.

Oof.

See why I can't keep focus on my work this morning? There's too much else rattling around in my brain! And there are too many energy-zapping forces working against me!

But...hey! It's Opening Day! That makes things feel better. :) Yay baseball! Go Cubbies!

The Gray Season

The weather here can't decide what it wants to do. Snow? Rain? Plunge to near-zero temperatures? Ice over?

The only consistent thing about the weather these past couple weeks has been the persistent gray. Sometimes it's an expectant gray, full of potential for glittery snow. Sometimes it's a dreary gray, reflecting the muddy edges of collapsing snowbanks along the salt-stained road.

These past two weeks have been dreary ones around church - too many deaths, too many chronic illnesses, too many unexpected diagnoses - and you can tell that we are all feeling weather-worn and emotionally exhausted.

I'm ready for fresh snow or for sun - for the outside world to feel less like Lent and more like Easter, less like waiting and more like fulfillment, less like death and more like life.

It Should Have Been Easy

This weekend. We were supposed to drive to MN Thursday night, hang out with my parents in Northfield on Friday, go to Christmasfest Friday night, relax Saturday morning, and drive back to Rockford on Saturday afternoon/evening. Then I would teach Sunday School on Sunday, and then drive to LSTC to play flute @ Lessons and Carols on Sunday evening.

Weather messed us up big-time. Snow on Thursday, snow/sleet/ice on Saturday. We made it to Christmasfest (so good - and so good to see old friends!), I missed church on Sunday. I made it to Lessons and Carols, but the rest of Sunday carried with it its own difficulties, and I stayed at home with my family yesterday, coming back to Rockford this afternoon. What should have been a quick weekend trip turned into a 4.5-5 day series of complexities.

I'm drained.





But what a Christmasfest message: "Where peace and love and hope abide." This is what advent is all about. This is what gets us through.

Still Waiting...

It's misty and foggy and gray here - it's starting to feel like November is finally making the concerted effort to move toward winter. There are rumors that there might be the first snowfall here overnight on Wednesday, though I'm suspicious.

However, if I were still living in New Jersey, my wait would have been over this morning.

I might have spent yesterday afternoon cleaning the apartment, doing 4 loads of laundry, doing all the dishes...and then setting up my Christmas tree! Now the apartment is clean and cozy. I might even have spend last evening baking two loaves of sweet potato cranberry bread.

It's fair to say that the holiday mood has hit. Now if only the weather would cooperate...

A Cold Night

They have been painting the outside window trim here in my building, which means that we all need to keep our windows open for another week or so, to let the paint dry fully in order to keep the windows from sticking. The problem with this open-window plan is that it is supposed to drop into the low/mid 40's overnight! The air outside has been getting cooler all evening, which means that I'm wearing socks (a difficult concession for my flip-flop devoted soul) and am wrapped up in the shawl I knit earlier this summer (I'm excited to give it some use!). When I get ready for bed, I'll definitely be wearing sweatpants, and probably a fleece, and I will certainly pull the extra blankets out of my closet.

Going to bed in a cold bedroom is nothing new for me. My bedroom in high school had a huge bay window on one wall and another window on another wall. It was in the old part of the house - the part with the old heating system that never had quite enough oomph to truly keep things warm. So when fall and winter arrived, my bedroom in the front corner would be one of the coldest places in the house. Crawling under cold sheets is nothing new (experience taught me that socks help mitigate the shock of ice-cold bedding), extra blankets are commonplace (sometimes I'd pull an extra dusty rose comforter over my quilt, other times it would be a cream-colored afghan), and holding my knees to my chest to keep warm by my own body heat is something familiar.

Those were the days when my friend Dan would roam the streets at night, indulging his inner poet, philosopher, and free spirit. Many nights this would mean that he'd tap at my window, jarring me awake and sending me, half-asleep, to the front steps of my house for midnight conversations that became a routine part of my sophomore year. I'm not sure why we never decided to be practical - no matter what time of year, these late-night conversations always took place outside, even on the coldest nights when the cold of the front steps seeped into our legs as we sat, pondering the stars, pondering love and life, pondering meaning-of-life philosophies in a dreamy and emotional manner specific to adolescence.

Those were the days when I readily embraced a poetic identity - when emotions and drama ran high but were necessary fodder for authentic and spontaneous (though formless and rambling) poems. Those were the days when I considered myself a child of Emerson and Thoreau - a modern-day transcendentalist who loved the revelatory quality of nature (though, looking back, it was actually more an addiction to the sentimental and romantic parts of nature: a full moon, a starry sky, a fresh snow, the dark outline of a tree against a violet sky).

Those were the days when I would bundle up on winter nights, crawl into bed, and sip chamomile tea while writing in my journal before bed. I believed myself to be a writer, a poet, a dreamer, a cozy person who paradoxically found authenticity only in a romanticized view of life.

And in all of this, I was wide-eyed and completely naive, though fully aware (and appreciative) of my naivitee. I was an idealist, I believed in love and destiny, I loved music and creativity more than any other pursuits, I had a simple (simiplistic?) understanding of my faith that tended to prefer absolutes to gray areas, I was easily swept away by the romantic, I was convinced of the inherent goodness of all people, I craved the esoteric.

There are still traces of all of those qualities in me, most certainly. I'll admit that I am more practical than I was ten years ago, and probably more cynical. And I know that I have traded in my romanticized musings of what might be for a healthy acceptance of taking things one day at a time. I appreciate that my faith worldview is now much more complex, and while I still enjoy the esoteric, these days I prefer an academic/intellectual brand of esocericism rather than a dreamy/philosophical variety. I still love music, still appreciate creativity, still love writing (though growing older has rid me of a fair amount of the adolescent drama that used to provide me with endless poetic fodder).

And on this cold night, I'll crawl in between smooth and chilled sheets, and find that my body and my mind will be able to remember the way that my old twin bed felt, the way that my old bedroom smelled of flowers and conflicting-scented candles, the absurd joy of sitting outside on the cold front steps for secret conversations in the quiet of night. It's hard to believe that I'm ten years past all of that.

This is why I'm wide awake at 2:58am...

...and the slow moving-ness of the storm system as it trails east is the reason that I'll probably still be wide awake at 3:58am...and 4:58am...

3:40pm

It is as dark as if it were 8pm outside right now - the same amount of light as mid to late twilight, post-sunset, pre-dark. And it is storming. Sheets and sheets of rain outside, cracking thunder, the whole bit.

It's a good afternoon to be me, knitting away on the couch, watching mindless - though not trashy - television. HGTV is good for that. (Oh, and on the knitting front, I'm making good progress on my Clapotis, in case you were wondering. It's very red-pink-yellow!) It's a good afternoon to be Matt working from home instead of going downtown via buses and rainy bus stops. It's a good afternoon to be a cat who likes curling up for naps.

If it were sunny out, I'd feel lazy for sitting around all afternoon like I have been. But during a thunderstorm, one would be silly NOT to be sitting around, doing simple slow things with no agenda and no guilt.

File under "things I don't understand"

Apparently I am not knowledgeable about the science of snow accumulation. It has been snowing outside since 10am -- 7 hours of snowfall thus far -- and yet there has been absurdly little accumulation. The forecast for the day says "70% chance of snow, less than one inch accumulation." I don't understand. Here's how I see it: if it is cold enough to be snowing all day, then is it not cold enough to accumulate? Or, put another way, if it is cold enough to establish a half-inch base layer of snow on the ground, then wouldn't subsequent snowfall stick to that initial layer of snow, thus continuing to accumulate? It makes no sense to me. A full day of snowfall should easily grant me a meager winter wonderland outside, right?

On the Brink

Life is on the brink of turning into "holiday season," and I am restless waiting for it to happen!

For the past few evenings, a light and cold mist has descended upon the city during rush hour time, hinting at the possibility of an evening snow flurry. The weather isn't quite cold enough to support real snow, but it cools enough when the sun goes down that it gives me hope for a few temporary evening flakes.

Matt and I drive out to the suburbs every Sunday to go to church with my parents, to have family dinner together, and to hang out at their house, watching football, doing homework, and relaxing. This past Sunday, my parents and I took a field trip to IKEA and spent a fair amount of time and money in the Christmas decoration section. On a sidenote, I have to say that Scandinavians know how to make Christmas beautiful. Straw ornaments, simply patterned and constructed fabrics, rustic wooden candleholders...all beautiful. Anyways, I came back armed with a few new Christmas items, and later in the evening, supplemented it with loaner ornaments from my parents' stash so that I could decorate our apartment whenever the inspiration hit. For the rest of the evening, we all curled up in the family room, where my dad built a beautiful fire in the fireplace, and we ate dinner together, watched football, and were surrounded by cuddly, sleepy cats. It felt very holiday-ish.

I have made my plane reservations for Christmasfest, and I added my small library of Christmas music to iTunes, and I talked with one of my sisters last night about Thanksgiving plans. So the holidays are certainly lurking...

I feel so ready to jump into holiday spirit, and I'm tired of feeling that the rest of my life is not quite ready to support me in that effort. Too much homework, too many meetings, too much rain and not enough show, too much advance Christmas commercialism that has evoked "it's too early!" reactions from family and friends such that I'm reluctant to be associated with the "too early" people and institutions around me. I think that this weekend will be a good kickoff. Michigan Avenue lights up its trees this weekend, I think, and next week I have classes off the entire week for Thanksgiving. Besides, Advent is only two weeks away. I think that the middle of November is a fine time to start feeling the holiday bug, how about you?

rain.

i have not died!

it's been a while. i know.

it's been busy...

here are things that have been going on over here in the past three weeks:

matt's acceptances to law schools have been overwhelming. this weekend, we're flying to chicago to visit two of them, after having visited one last weekend, and another the weekend before that. it's funny - on some level, we thought that rejections and lack of funds would help him make his decision. but right now, he's been accepted to six schools, with definitey (and plentious!) money given by FIVE of them. crazy. and very nice.

my parents visited last weekend and part of last week. yay!!! :) i'm always happy to be with my family. we did the usual things (hoagie haven, the record exchange, the PTS and Princeton University bookstores), and a couple unusual things (they came with to the New Jersey Synod's Conference on Congregational Ministries, at which I was presenting a workshop, they came to class with me, we bought new hubcaps for my car), and we ate a TON of tasty food. i'm excited that i get to see them again this weekend, and that i get to see them shortly after that for graduation.

ahhhh yes...that's another thing. it has just recently hit me that i am less than three weeks away from being finished with classes. that means that i am getting ridiculously close to graduation. it doesn't seem real at all. on some level, it sort of feels like you're supposed to just stay at seminary forever - i'm certainly feeling as if after three years i STILL don't know nearly enough to be a pastor and a theologian. and it hasn't quite sunk in that when i walk at graduation, i will be wearing a graduate hood...that i'm getting a graduate degree...it makes me feel old.

by the way, it is april 5th, and it was in the upper sixties for most of the past week. and right now, at 11:28am, it's SNOWING outside. and i'm wearing flip-flops. because it was just gray and rainy this morning, with no hint of forthcoming snow. happy spring?

theologically speaking, there have been a few things going on for me. first of all, in the past three weeks, i have finally managed to aquire for myself an adequate theology of the resurrection (thank you N.T. Wright). i have also been able to do a lot of thinking and discussing the importance and involvement of the holy spirit in the life of the Christian and in the life of the world itself. finally, on a completely non-systematic note, i have been doing a lot of research and thinking for my field ed. on the topic of immigration and theology. hopefully i will post something about that soon, especially with all of the noise in the U.S. senate right now on the issue.

other than that, it's been normal homework and papers, trying to keep the apartment clean in the midst of my schoolwork, and really really enjoying hanging out with matt.

state of melisa's life right now: very good. :)

i'm not the first...

...to post about the incredible amount of snow that fell upon us last night and this morning. but just because i'm slow doesn't mean that i'm not appreciative. they're starting to make a real effort at plowing the streets, now that the snow looks like it is tapering off. but indeed, until now (1:00pm), we were pretty much snowbound. not that we really wanted to go anywhere...and besides, being snowed in is an incredibly fun concept.

this was the view from our balcony this morning when i got up:
(yay for stitching photos together for a panoramic composite...i'm such a geek...)


however, that was really just the view from the edge of the balcony inside our apartment. see, when i took pictures of the outside, i couldn't actually go out on the balcony to do it, because even our balcony was covered in four inches of snow!


i love the snow. :) i wish that tomorrow could be a snow day...

the tables have turned

my hometown (where my parents still live): villa park, illinois
my college town (where one of my sisters is): northfield, minnesota
my other sister's college town: des moines, iowa
where i am right now: princeton, new jersey

notice the fact that at this very moment, princeton is colder than any of those other midwest locations. villa park is a chicago suburb: chicago, the windy city! des moines is flat, farm country, the epitome of frontier midwest. northfield is in minnesota, for goodness sake!

remember when it was 70 degrees late in november? it was snowing in at least two of the three other cities during that week.

ah, how the tables have turned. it's cold here. and i love it. :)

flaky

in honor of the first snow of the season, my most favorite winter web activity: make-a-flake!

enjoy!

in the morning when it was still dark

if i had to rank the sweetest, most touching moments of my life, this morning would definitely rank in the top ten.

it was early early this morning - still dark like the middle of the night - and i wake up like you do when you need to roll over. matt reaches for me and asks "are you awake?" tired, half-asleep, and not knowing what is going on, i manage to whine "not really." but seeing as i'm awake enough to respond to him, he tells me that he looked out the window and it was snowing, and he wanted me to know.

i love snow. i've been waiting (rather impatiently) for snow this season. it means the world to me to know that matt knows me well enough and even cares enough about my silly quirks to wake me up so i can see the first snowfall of the year. maybe no one who reads this will truly understand what i'm feeling, but this is so special to me.

happy snow day!