Girl's Night Out, Part 1

This what time I got home. Tomorrow morning I'm going to be sleep-deprived, dehydrated, and generally a pathetic mess. And I wouldn't trade one minute of it. Girl time is good for the soul, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

A Chair Full of Love

Some pictures speak for themselves.

Modeling Good Behavior

My husband has this innovative approach to persuade my sons to nap: he lays down with them "for a minute" so that they will calm down and go to sleep. He's been utilizing this method for several years, yet it often seems that the only person getting a nap is Dad. Do I smell a fraud, here?

Devastation

I try not to reveal too much information to identify me, for the security and privacy of my family. I'm going to make an exception to that rule today and tell you this: my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers broke my heart and left it on the turf of Jerry Jones' temple. I was so devastated that I needed a day to recoup before I could even write about it. I am still utterly disconsolate over it, and the awkward well wishes of a multitude of colleagues and students today, while sweet and well meaning, in large part merely salted the wound. I know this seems like insanity, and quite possibly, it is. What rational woman feels so passionately about a football team that is in a city half a country away?
For me, loving the Steelers was less a choice and more a condition of my upbringing. I grew up in Pittsburgh at a time when there wasn't much to sell you on the town except the Black n' Gold. I was part of a family and a community that came together to slough off the pain of a slumping steel industry and become a part of greatness. Then, the year after the Steelers third Super Bowl win against, that's right, the Dallas Cowboys, I found myself abruptly transplanted into the belly of the beast - right into Dallas, Texas. I was beginning junior high school, and my love for the Steelers was just one more thing to make me some foreign, undesirable element in the scene, along with a strange accent, an entire vocabulary of strange idioms, and a weird fashion sense. Those were the days . . .
It's been many years since my family came to Texas, and in many ways it's become my home. I met my beloved husband here, and together we founded the Circus. The accent has faded, along with many of the strange expressions. And yet, one link to the past has remained for me and my family: a passion for my beloved Steelers. This passion rests latent much of the time, appearing on the walls of my classroom and on "sports jersey day" or some other school event. But this year, this year . . . my Steelers came here, HERE, to Dallas, to play in the Super Bowl. It was an amazing experience for me and for my family. I got to take my children to see first hand the fervent loyalty of the Steeler Nation. I got to see the iconic Steelers' logo splashed everywhere in my Texas community. And finally, I got to join together with my parents, my brother, and my amazingly supportive husband to wear the Black and Gold; to talk of Roethlisberger's arm and the loss of Maurkice Pouncey and the staggering oversight of Jerome Bettis by the Hall of Fame balloting; and to watch in ecstasy and agony the game of games. The loss was crushing: I want to weep even now with my disappointment. And yet, in my sadness I am whole: I wore the Black and Gold today, and I held my head up with pride. To you, it's just a football game. To me, it's the still-strong connection with the community that shaped me. Win or lose, now and forever, I shout to the world:
GO STEELERS!

The silence before the circus . . .

Breathless Morning

When I opened my eyes at 6:00 AM, the world was holding its breath. I padded to the window to peer out onto an Earth asleep under its downy winter blanket, and I felt peace. I don't even dare go out to take a picture for fear of shattering the blessed stillness. I become part of the silent miracle for an endless moment, and I think, "At last, this is a snow day."

A light has just come on in the hall: the silence will soon yield to Act One of The Snow Circus. . . the world exhales, and we begin.

Venturing Out

I'm sure everyone will be pleased to know that I changed out of my jammies, scraped off a layer of gunk from my hair, and headed outside today. There is nothing like cabin fever to make one appreciate the simple pleasures in life, like coupon shopping. Did you know that they double the sets of coupons in the paper the weekend before the Super Bowl? Greatness. One of the fruits of our labor today will become an activity for tomorrow - valentine writing! Time for a little home-schooling . . . because enough is enough, already.

February 1. That's right - the first. Don't argue.

This is my blog for February 1. I'm well aware that the post time stamp tells you differently, but who are you going to believe?
In any event, the were the best shots I could get before everyone decided that frostbite was imminent and went indoors for . . . you guessed it: hot chocolate and a movie. That post bemoaning my family's addiction to all things digital? Well, I've decided that one might be forgiven their vices on a snow day.

Slacker

I've failed abysmally at my blog-a-day resolution. It's tempting to offer up some dramatic reason for my lapse involving my insane life, the astonishing mission to some higher purpose, or some other so-very-important activity absorbing my hours. Not the case. These socked feet have been at home for two consecutive snow days, heading rapidly toward a third. I have read three books on my Nook, made a fairly straightforward assignment for grad school into an epic of procrastination, eaten altogether too much junk, and played more Angry Birds than any human being should. And here's the kicker: I have loved every minute of it. Maybe tomorrow I'll change out of my pajamas . . . or not.