The Christmas tree browned when we went to SoCal for two weeks, even though I filled it to the brim before leaving. It was a good wedding, sunny and windy and hopeful. Zach played with his cousins and ate too much cheese bread.
I moved the tree to the backyard; it’s leaning against our unusable porch swing and will be there for at least a week. I will vacuum soon.
But ’13 unfolds clear and strong, orderly and right: 1. I will build a dining room table, big for a growing family and of pine or fir because it’s cheap and I’m not very good at building things. 2. When the sun returns and the porch swing is usable again, I will take my family to Denali and we will look at the mountain and run in crunchy pine needles. 3. I will teach Zach to use his new glove, flipping it up for pop-flies and keeping it down for grounders. 4. I will teach Anna to walk and talk and figure out her “I’m going to spit up” look in time to hand her to her mother. 5. I will love and serve Kristi.
I will do all of the above while eating less chocolate and more pepperoncini.
But now, now I will vacuum.