We've just put away most of Christmas today, cleaned, swept, mopped, and gathered up the scattered cat toys, dancing to Lyle Lovett and Greg Brown the whole time. Now the corner where the tree and all have been standing just holds the vacuum cleaner. The return to non-holiday season is plainer. But I like the space.
It's been mighty cold by us this last week. Cold enough to force us to warm up the cars for at least ten minutes before driving to work in the mornings. Cold enough for Spark's cheeks to still be ruddy hours after he gets home from school. Cold enough to prompt me to leave two taps running, one in the bathroom, one in the basement, so that the pipes don't freeze.
Primo turned sixteen last weekend. Having a birthday that always falls over the schools' winter break is a mixed bag. Primo chose his activity and whether we had a meal out at a restaurant. We went to see the latest Star Wars movie at the super-deluxe theater that offers real foods brought to your own motorized red leather reclining seat. After the show was over, we were all too full eat a special meal. Perhaps we'll make it up later, and have some cake, too.
Sixteen's the age around here that kids usually get their drivers licenses. Due to a number of factors in our summer and autumn schedules, Primo has deferred his driver's ed coursework until this coming spring. In our city, kids have to take the courses privately. Primo will be paying for half of the cost of lessons.
Sparky will be turning twelve at the end of January. He's firmly hanging on to childhood so far.