I don’t know about the rest of you living above the Mason-Dixon line, but I’m just treading water these days, waiting for spring to arrive. This time of year I feel like a kid in the weeks leading up to Christmas. I know it’s coming; but I’m not entirely sure when. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of the magic that is to come, but the waiting seems interminable.
I think my kids feel the same way. Yesterday my daughters were determined to wear their new spring dresses to church. The weather forecast promised that the temperature would reach 60 by the end of the day, but what we didn’t take into account was the March in-like-a-lion wind chill factor. They happily donned their sundresses with their little white sweaters over top, but once we stepped outside, they realized they would need an extra layer of warmth. So they arrived at church wearing spring dresses and white sweaters under winter parkas. Because one is never too young to make a fashion statement.
The temperature never did reach 60, at least not in our windy development, but that didn’t stop the kids from playing outside all afternoon. So I guess I can’t complain about that.
And lest you think this entire post is going to bemoan the weather, on Saturday I met my best college buddy/matron of honor/BFF for a day of shopping. This day had been planned for weeks, but last week my husband realized we had a scheduling conflict. That is a diplomatic way of saying that my husband had an event that was not on the family calendar, but he felt it should take precedence over MY well-documented event.
Because I am low-maintenance, and really, what woman wants to get away for a day of lunch and shopping with a girlfriend anyway, ahem, I agreed to postpone our trip in favor of his VERY IMPORTANT MEETING. When I let d know that we would have to reschedule, she was understanding but said that she thought she would go anyway; she needed some time to herself.
Fast forward to Saturday morning, and my husband decided that his oh-so-important meeting might not be so unmissable after all. Aren’t women supposed to be the fickle ones? Too excited about reinstating my plans to hold a grudge, I jumped out of bed, ran downstairs to the phone, and quickly dialed d’s phone number. In a matter of minutes we had established a meeting place and time and I was brewing a fresh pot of coffee and humming a little tune.
A day off was just what the doctor ordered. The two hours alone in the car was a treat in and of itself. I brought my camera and totally meant to take pictures, but of course the camera sat neglected in the bottom of my new spring handbag (looks familiar, doesn’t it??) while we chatted and shopped and ate and chatted and drank (Coke — what did you THINK!?) and chatted some more.
Since I have no photographic evidence of our day out, imagine these 2 college students 16 years older, 6 kids and 2 minivans later, and we aren’t going to mention how many pounds heavier, with their hands full of shopping bags, and you pretty much have a picture!
Hey, today I’m over at Chic Critique yakking about The Solution.
And my friend Sarah is giving away a $15 Amazon gift card over at her blog for the Ultimate Blog Party.