I woke up next to the boy this morning (afternoon, really), who, I've learned, is the most ingenious cure for migraines, and after reaching my sleep quota for the rest of my life--I swear--I headed off for a baking date at Breanne's. We made peppermint bark and shortbread, snacked on smoked salmon, and had an impromptu musical performance (because that's what arts kids do), then on the way home, the most miraculous thing happened.
It snowed.
But like, one of those real snows--dry and crunchy, not too heavy, not too windy--where the whole world just screams Christmas and all you want to do is run around in it like you're 10 years old again. So we did, and I've been humming Sleigh Ride ever since.
Tomorrow starts the rest of my life again; it's off to bed, and back to essays, cramming, and maybe a little dusting if I'm feeling ambitious.
(But all I want to do is make snow angels.)
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