Super Bowl Sunday

The Groundhog predicted an early spring, and the last few days were proving that fortune teller correct. I spent some extra time cuddled up in my favorite chair, daydreaming, and I could feel the warm dirt in my fingers and smell that wonderful warm, earthy, musty garden smell. The weight on my shoulders felt infinitely lighter, and my family was rewarded with more smiles and laughs.

Then today dawned grey, overcast, and dreary, and with that the weight is back. My morning smile was replaced with morning grouchiness, and instead of laughing, I found everything coming out of my mouth rather snitful. I am going to put on shoes and jacket, and go outside to face this dreary day head on. I will find something beautiful and hopeful in it, and I will bring that hope back inside.

Tim seems to have come down with the flu. His body aches, he feels congested and tired and is napping. The girls have been having a Get Smart marathon. I had to ask them to go upstairs and try to tone down the laughter since their dad was sleeping. You should have seen the look they gave me. Obviously watching Get Smart without riotous and very loud laughter isn't possible. They are giving it their best shot, though.

Nachos and beer is a tradition for Super Bowl Sunday although it appears Tim might not be joining in. Might just be the girls and me. Hmmmm..... no. If there's anything that will get that man out of bed (other than work) it's football. We'll just quarantine him to one side of the room.

Now I'm off to face my enemy, the dreary sky.