Postcards from the edge.

So I came about this close to losing it today. Can’t say what triggered it—low blood sugar or the bottling up and distraction from all the stress of the move—but there I was, pouring my second cup of coffee in an empty house, glitter snow swirling around the windows like mica… and my chin started to dance.

Now, this isn’t a cry for help or anything! And no tears were shed. I pulled through—it was just that stomach drop when you catch yourself on a ledge, arms windmilling to get your balance. I could’ve lost my marbles, but three hours of my nose to the grindstone and a lunch break spent bundled up on the edge of the slopes watching skiers coast by in the sun, and I was a new woman.

Anyway, look how happy Eli is. It’s not like I can rain on his parade or anything:

Miserable, right?

Oh, and it’s too cold to use the porch anyway, so… no harm no foul, Mother Nature:

[Another ASOS maxi skirt… I’ve been in maxi skirt overdrive since we got here.]

I better wrap this up, on account of Rob getting home and needing a fresh beer when he gets out of the shower. He stinks of wood stain and I need some conversation with a being that does not have whiskers.

-Carey