We’re all still here.
Here is a picture, even, to prove that I’m still alive:
I have actually FORGOTTEN how many ice storms we’ve had in the last two weeks. This pic was me, snowshoeing, directly after one of them . . .
The dogs and I are all sunk into the couch in front of the fire. Matt is prepping supper and Colby is upstairs claiming the last of his vacation time.
This is mostly how we’ve been since October. There have been big stories and little stories and mediocre stories that I have so wanted to share, but part of me is keeping these few months close. I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me this would happen, but life has shifted since the wedding. And it’s hard work aligning priorities and personalities and expectations and all that stuff that comes with sharing your very imperfect self with another very imperfect person.
The dogs have new bones and have been remarkably mischief free because they spend all of their time either looking for or gnawing on the bones. I’ve been running and am surprised at both how much I missed it and how easily I was able to come back. I signed up for a 1/2 in hopes of fitting back into my (not skinny, not fat, but AVERAGE) jeans. Matt has been busy fixing our cars and keeping the ice on our roof under control.
In all of this, we are growing and learning and loving. And I’m feeling a little possessive of these experiences. I think what we have going on is some post-wedding nesting. I only remember the word in terms of antepartum mysteria, but the ethos is the same. It is not just a fear of germs or dirt, but a narrowing of focus, a preparation.