Twelve days and counting until we shove off to drive south. Our first real snow storm of the season has kept us all cozy and happy for this long weekend, so I’m hoping that the girls can get their fill of sledding and snowman making (and snow-eating, in the case of Violet, who gazes out the window at the deck drooling over the potential mitten scoops of the stuff; I’m thinking of telling her that we have a faucet INside the house one of these days). It’s the one piece of real guilt that I’m harboring over this time away; our girls love the winters here in Maine. You know what though? They’ll be fine on white sand beaches, too. Right? (Right, of course, says the sensible me.)
While they have been outside, I have been busy making lists, completing tasks from lists, making sub-lists of lists, compiling lists, making mental lists when my hands are tied up checking things off of other lists, and then lying awake at night making lists of things that I only assume that I’ll forget to write down once I’m up again, which therefore sends me into a pneumonic list to remember the list. Holy cow, it’s time to get out of here.
Since a set of items on one of my lists included custom-fitting our linens to meet the wonky dimensional needs of our bunks, yesterday largely involved me wrestling yardage of elastic and cursing my sewing impatience while acting as ‘Principal’ to the kids playing school (not a self-appointed title, to be sure). At the same time Andy was checking a boating life skill learning experience off of his list by teaching himself to splice double braided line with the help of a fancy You Tube video. And just like that, a million hours later, and we have sheets that fit and a new traveller line! Evidence below:
For now though, the lists are calling.
