Today may have broken me. I was about ten seconds from huddling in a closet and refusing to come out until other people did all of the adulting for me, leaving me with nothing to do but watch Jane the Virgin and drown my frustrations in a half-gallon of double fudge ripple.
8:30 am: Lorelei and I have already screamed at each other over the quantity of honey on her waffle.
9:00 am: It’s not even snowing, it is sleeting. Freezing raining. A few flakes mix in occasionally, but mostly it’s sleet.
Whew. Things got a little heavy for a minute. Let’s move on.
There is a chance of a flurry tonight, which means we need to cancel life.
Saying I love weather is like saying I love breathing, it’s part of who I am, and has been for as long as I can remember. There is a home video from Christmas ’89 where I am playing in the snow, making snowballs, and generally being a kid – then I suddenly look up at the camera and with the authority of a meteorologist I state, “this is the first white Christmas in New Bern since 1898.” Then I go back to playing.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again
When you hear the feet and the sound of laughter,
Better step aside for the mayhem after
Here she comes, yeah the summer child is running again.
– Dar Williams