I have been ignoring you people. Ignoring posterity. I blame the weather, the endless drear, the stretch of snow days. But I think I’ve been looking at this backwards. I have been blaming the winter for my failure to blog. But what if my failure to blog is the cause of this interminable winter?
It’s a reckless theory, but one I will consider, if only because I’m short on other explanations. Perhaps if I return to my previous schedule of daily posts, the spring will come, and soon. It’s worth a try.
This is my reality, each and every morning. The appearance of small people in my bed, demanding love as I desperately try (and fail) to cling to unconsciousness. They seize my electronics and trample my spirit (while somehow justifying the entire invasion with a single smile). I lack the mettle to face this particular adversary. And so I begin each day in utter defeat.
I have, of late, enjoyed a few trips over the Bay to visit this building, which is, if you are unaware, the North Charles Street Design Organization, the site of my gainful employment. Should you be interested in hiring a group of thoughtful strategists, writers, and designers to develop brand messaging or marketing collateral for your college, university, or school, please do give us a call. If you’d prefer to see the smiling faces of my colleagues, here they are.
Back in Chestertown, starved for the varieties of stimulation made possible when grass is visible, we have taken to reading patches of snow and ice like tea leaves. Here is Alden discovering the apocryphal “10” in the sidewalk frost.
If you think it has no deeper meaning, you are wrong. Dead wrong. This is a prophesy, people. This could be a harbinger of the End of Days.
Or the beginning of spring. If you you know it to be the former, please lie and tell me that a warm front is predicted for later this week.
Look. Someone is building a house a few blocks down from us on North Queen. This lot is directly adjacent to the house that my mother will be retiring to in a few months time. Soon we, Robbi’s dad, and my mom will all live within three blocks of one another. If you are related to us and would like to continue this Swanson/Behr conquest, be advised that there are a few houses currently on the market along the Queen Street corridor.
Alden’s school, which does a wonderful job of creating periodic evenings of enrichment and community, recently hosted the Camp Read S’more event. Kids gathered to celebrate literacy and eat hot dogs. Our neighbor Charlotte came along to get an early start on exploring the wonderful world of words.
In keeping with the theme, Smokey was in attendance. Charlotte was all about the photo bomb.
What else can you do when it’s miserable outside? Hone your body into a state of physical magnificence. Such has been young Alden’s project of late.
Here she is, bidding farewell to her yellow belt with black stripe.
And earning her orange belt with no stripe.
I am already badly outmatched by Alden when it comes to the pugilistic arts. As this march of belts continues, I am making every attempt to stay on her good side.
Part of this strategy involves making enormous quantities of enchiladas.
Also: allowing her to brush her teeth while standing on the kitchen counter (which is every child’s dream, I am told).
I have just now glanced at the forecast for today and see that the temperature is rising to a temperature just above freezing throughout the afternoon. Perhaps some ice will melt away so that the earth can be all the more offended tomorrow and Thursday, when more snow is scheduled to fall.
I am tempted to despair, but will not. In keeping with my promise at the outset, I will try to write these winter blues away. If you care to join me in the effort, I will be here tomorrow with more photos of my life of winter internment.