Monday morning

As Jim was getting dressed for work this morning, he said to me from the closet, "Babe, do you know what the temperature is supposed to be today?" I groggily responded from the depths of flannel sheets and pillows, "I don't think it's supposed to be that bad, maybe 40?"




He left for work, and as I lay there for the next several minutes, I heard this odd, yet familiar, sound coming from outside. But I was lazy, and I didn't bother to peek outside to investigate.



But when Seth and I went downstairs for breakfast, I was greeted with a welcome sight:


I know that all our family and friends in Ohio are sick to death of winter and ice and snow, but to this newly transplanted yankee, this white stuff was like a balm to my homesick heart.



Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a LOT less homesick than I expected to be. Not that there haven't been moments, even whole days, of wishing we were still in Ohio, but for the most part, I'm absolutely content here.



But still...to look out my window and see falling snow, to hear sleet hitting the window pane, to watch Seth gaze outside in wonder as the ground is blanketed....it feels like home. And that feels wonderful.

On another completely unrelated note, and more for the benefit of Sarah and Christy, I wanted to offer up proof that I really was making chicken pot pie from scratch on Friday. And I have to tell you, it was good. Girls, when we have our first "sister" get-together, this can be my contribution, I promise!