small talk

 

Austin lost a tooth.

Cade is glad he can wear soft, long sleeve pants to school again.

I’m obsessed with blanket scarves. My current favorite is a black/gray/white plaid from Target and I’d wear it every day of the week if I wouldn’t get strange looks from coworkers.

I’ve never really spent time preparing for a new season, or a new year- I’m a fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal… But I’ve spent the last few weeks planning ahead and being intentional and I’m hopeful that the winter cold won’t sting so much and that the new year won’t be scary if I know a little bit of what’s coming…

The boys will be with their dad for Christmas this year and I ache already. While I know they’ll be ok, the loss of tradition stings. There are things I do that he won’t and it’s just hard to let go…

With heartache comes healing, though- we have a chance to start new traditions. I think I’ll make a big deal out of New Year’s Eve on these even years when they’re away for Christmas. And I’ll remind myself the spirit of Christmas isn’t just limited to one day… which is a reminder  we all need anyhow.

The tree is up but small this year. And the stockings aren’t hung on the mantle. We’ve yet to put away the (metal) jack o’lanterns on the porch. We spent hours on Saturday making ornaments with buttons and ribbons.

I listen to Taylor Swift’s 1989 album more than I care to admit. I blare Clean until my ears hurt and until my heart understands that I’m finally in a good place.

I’m starting to write more things down on paper… I’ve found a favorite pen and I write on sticky notes, and note pads, in the notebook tucked in my drawer. I bought a calendar to jot down little notes about each day. I’ve spent less time clicking stories out on the keyboard and more time learning what my own handwriting looks like again. There’s something to cherish about the handwritten word.

I miss Germany, still. I’m sure by now there’s been snow on the ground and the pace of everything has slowed. I dream of the hustle of the Christmas Markets, the glühwein, churros and pretzels warm in your hand, the lights and the holly and the evergreen garland- draped across the villages.  We’d probably trek down to Stadtkrug on Wednesday night for the best steak you’ve ever eaten, we stand in the doorway and stomp snow off our feet and dust it out of our hair. I see those days clearly in my memories and I wonder when the vividness will fade.

I ventured away from black clothes for a while there in the summer, with some fun color blocked dresses. But now that the weather has turned cold, I’m back to the same old black uniform. It’s easy, and comfortable, and I can wear my favorite blanket scarf.

Your turn, tell me…
If we ran into each other in line for expensive ass coffee on a lukewarm day wearing old sweats, a sock bun, and a blanket scarf, what would you say?

 

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