Things were humming right along up here in beautiful Alaska. The snow had melted. The sun was shining. The twins and I were spending bright, happy afternoons out on the deck. Per usual, whenever I decide that spring has arrived, the very next day we get hit with a snowstorm. Last year, I demanded that my winter tires be removed; the next day, SNOW. The year before that, I had set out some plants to harden; the next day, SNOW. This year, I'd pulled out the capri pants and cute sandals; the next day, . . .
Lonely lawn chair,
where I sat basking in the sun TWO DAYS AGO.
To make matters worse, my husband asked me to start parking outside a week ago so that his Precious could have its own protected space. "It's spring," he said. "Don't be a baby," he said.
This morning the electronic sliding doors on the minivan were frozen shut. I could not get them to open, despite my pulling and tugging and coaxing and threatening and crying . . . you get the point yet? I was not happy. The only door that would open was the front passenger. All four kids had to crawl across the front seat and into the back. Then I had fun contorting myself into one big muscle spasm while securing the twins into their car seats, with Daisy clawing at me like an insane rabid freakazoid in her attempts to get to the girls by squeezing past an immovable object, namely my big butt.
Laugh thy girlish laughter
Then the moment after,
Weep thy girlish tears.
—Sir William Watson
Dinner last night: chicken tostada
Exactly one year ago today: