It’s early, it is Tuesday morning.
The weather makes me feel like London or Paris, the fog and the cold that cut through you like that proverbial knife. The streets and sidewalks are pretty much clear of snow but the grass is still covered. The sleep was permeated by sounds of clumps of wet snow falling from the trees, sounding as if small animals were having a major dance on the roof, and frankly, they probably were.
The sky we saw on the way east to get our grandkids was strangely black and made me think of snow. The temps, however, do not look as if that will be the outcome since it is just a shade too warm.
I had a quick walk with Stewie, one in which I was tentative regarding where to put my feet as I moved forward, wondering if the dark and the wet look of the pavement were going to cause me to slip and fall. It seemed way too warm and I did not slip once, so I believe that my fears were unfounded. We only did a ‘corner’ walk, just up to the corner and a bit beyond, about a trip of six or seven houses passed before turning around. Stewie is satisfied with that although he would like more but I wasn’t ready to get up at 5:30, knowing what kind of intense grandkid day it was going to be.
We were home by 7:30 AM despite the fact that the grandkids did not have the best of nights (nor did the parents, of course) and our prediction was that they would sleep in. Once again we learned that we have little control over things and even little knowledge about things; they got up early and so we quickly brought them home. We stopped at Starbucks for a treat of two ‘Mistos’ and a slice of banana bread (a favorite) for the two year old.
We are happy as the kids seem happy, our three year old is, seemingly, recovering quickly from the removal of her tonsils and adenoids, and we are moving toward Christmas.