she presses her nose to the glass and says, can i, mom? can i go out and play?
and i say sure, and she bundles fat like a sausage and scampers out to tromp in loopy circles and play 'pretend washing the car' with her brother. they giggle like fiends out there, reveling in our first hearty snow of the season.
after a spell i head out too, to document my grossly over-photographed prickly-mean bush in the snow. he's a thorny little fellow, but such a looker.
and when i'm no longer certain i have fingers or ears (or any minor extremities whatsoever), we rush back inside to thaw and breathe warm, deliciously normal air.
knowing that i will loathe the unending supply of this white stuff never seems to put a damper on my glee at its first appearance.
continuing the list of thankfuls:
38. a washer and dryer that came to us as a welcome gift from our very first church and are still thumping along happily as i type
39. indoor plumbing on seven-degree mornings
40. sleeping bags lined with flannel
41. an oven-warmed kitchen pungent with coq au vin
42. the hush of an evening snowfall
43. singing carols tree-side with my girl
44. free flicks from redbox
45. peppermint cocoa
46. jitterbugging to harry connick, jr with the littles
47. parcels in the post
48. eyeing all household contents as potential white elephant gifts