Thursday, March 31 2022

Dear Journal,

Good morning, everyone. Happy Thursday.

I should have started writing a few minutes ago, but I've instead just been staring out of the dining room window watching the steady wave of snowflakes fall to the ground. There's a full blown snow flurry happening outside. Getting this much snow so late in the spring is annoying, but it's also beautiful. I could stare out the window just watching this for hours.

Here on the main floor of the house, it's peaceful. Upstairs, Rodney and Miles heckle each other from their bedrooms. Miles just started crying - it sounds they've broken out into some kind of wordless brotherly argument. I think they're both feeling annoyed because they're wide awake, but it's not time to come out of their rooms. Rodney, always the bargaining type, tried to plead his case one more time while I passed his door to the bathroom.

"How about I come out my room after you shower," he said, giving a thumbs up like it was a done deal. Still warming up to the morning, I didn't even have the energy to scold him. What a couple of wingisses.

But I'm here now in a quiet, no-kid zone. No silly questions or random stories for the next forty-five minutes. Just peace, writing, and coffee.

Ah, I forgot about my coffee. That's a great idea, let's get some of that going this morning.

Sip. That's the good stuff. It's good to be here today. We're braving the snow, the cold, and the fatigue to finish out this work week, and we deserve all the coffee we want.

Marissa and I stayed up a little too late last night, and we loosely deemed it a celebration. In one of her upcoming art shows, there's a special gallery within the gallery. On a whim, she submitted a new piece as her application. She could have gone with an old piece - one that's more representative of the style she's known for. But instead she decided to take a risk with something she painted only about a week ago that's totally different.

She just learned that her piece was accepted into the gallery. Getting her own booth at a show is cool, but getting a piece shown in a fine art gallery is even cooler.

So we decided to celebrate - or that's at least what we told ourselves when it was time to turn in for the night. Instead of heading upstairs, we refilled snacks, got comfortable, and played another episode of Impractical Jokers. In a true sense, we were celebrating, but more accurately we were just too comfortable in blankets, dogs, and snacks to ruin it all by heading upstairs to bed.

I was doing most of the snacking. I sort of cut loose with wasabi peas, dates, and Australian licorice. The eclectic smorgasboard was sourced from me and Rodney's new favorite section at Hy-Vee. It's a table just beside the produce with little containers of dried fruits, nuts, and other interesting things. I don't know what else to call it, but Rodney calls it sweet sweet candy.

I'll use that in a sentence. When we walk by that section of Hy-Vee, he pulls my arm and says, "dada, are we gonna get any of that sweet sweet candy?.

Rodney picked up the phrase from me and Marissa. I could be wrong here, but I'm pretty sure Marissa and I started to say that quoting a Futurama episode.