Tired of all the Gray

I am longing for flowers. I want to go into a warm greenhouse and huff the moist soil, feel the green, absorb the color. I see bits of color peeking out from the snow...plastic caps, mylar bags. Not the same. I will likely head to the florist today to grab some paper white bulbs to force into bloom.

Tomorrow is my daughter's 18th birthday. It simply stuns me to realize I have been parenting for 18 years. She is turning into a lovely woman now, heading to college in the fall. I looked at some of her baby pictures lately and got a little wistful. Not that I want any babies. Really. I love babies, but I know all too well how exhausting parenting babies is. I get a reminder most evenings as my neighbor, who shares half of this duplex, has a new baby and I hear way more screaming than cooing. I wince and send good vibes.

Superbowl Sunday.

I grew up in Pittsburgh, in the era of Terry Bradshaw, Lynn Swan, Franco Harris and Superbowl wins. I am very stoked for tonight's game. Not quite as much as if the Patriots were playing, but, still. Go Team!