I'm enjoying a lull in the action. We survived the frenetic holidays and the often-rough resettling phase before that, when the man came home. Coming very soon will be packing and hard work going through our punch list of deferred maintenance so we can put this house on the market and take the next leap in our nomadic lives. For today, we let a few things slide. Today felt like an all-day pajama party, despite the fact that there was no party, and neither of us spent the day in PJs. We even took care of grown-up tasks (specifically, the man worked on taxes and he dragged me down to his level). Maybe it was just because he was home all day, and it felt like playing hooky. It was a good chance to refill the reserves. And now that the day is almost over, that man is indeed back in his jammies, sacked out on the couch. He's sharing a fleece blankie with me, with his loyal cat Zoe pinned by his side. Do we know how to party on a Saturday night or what?
I can't tell yet what sort of winter it will be. We had an early cold snap, but it has been so warm down here for weeks that the Park is opening up like it is already spring. We were shocked to realize that the peaches are already blooming, and it is still January. Anything can happen yet. We could have a repeat of last year's damaging ice, that made it this far south a year ago next week. I think I would prefer to do without that. I'm trying to scale back most of my gardening, on the assumption that I won't be here for an entire growing season this year. That doesn't mean I want to see downed branches or blown buds. I wish I knew how to spread a word of caution to all those little sleeping plants who think it would be a great idea to wake up in the middle of the night (winter), and giggle and tell stories when they should stay dormant. To be fair, I'm always seeing tea olives and azaleas blooming in December, this year and in years past, and they always manage to come back strong. I know I should let it go and trust. This happens often enough,and the plants know how to handle it. I'm a natural worrying mommy, but I do have history. You go one season with four peach trees and not a single fruit after a late-season blizzard, and you never really recover.
Now that I'm thinking about it, am I too old for a real pajama-slash-slumber party? Do you ever hit that point? It was suggested that the mah jongg master and I needed to take the show on the road, and go visit one of our favorite mah jongg playing partners. I can imagine that turning into a late night of girl talk. I wonder what kind of bargain I'll have to offer the man to work that one out. I'm sure it will involve me being left alone with his high-maintenance dog for several days. At least the man taught me how easily entertained Murray is. Is it wrong to find it so amusing watching a dog chase a cat's toy?
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