Tacos & Other Firsts

It's midnight. Technically, it's tomorrow, but I've always preferred to separate the todays from the tomorrows with dreams. Since I'm still awake, I'm going to carpe the hell out of this diem right now because stopping my truck halfway up my driveway to take a picture of pine trees heavy with the day's snow that is still coming down is my version of stopping to smell the roses.

It's been snowing all day. The slow, fat snowflakes that make it seem like we live in a snow globe. The roads are shit and visibility is nonexistent, but we have 6-8 inches of soft powder for snowshoeing and snowman building and snow angels and snowball fights. This is the kind of snow we've been waiting for since winter arrived here in northern Maine this year. It's the kind that just feels like it's happy. Dorothy fell asleep in the field of poppies and I was smiling it's this kind of snow that has me thinking that maybe that snow globe idea isn't really crazy and I wonder if we are turned upside down, for just a moment, and shaken gently while we sleep.



My Weather Channel app tells me it's 33 degrees outside right now and Eliana didn't wear her gloves on the way into the house. I didn't bother to zip my jacket. Cold is subjective, but I'm pretty sure even the Midwest -- after having dealt with unthinkably bitter temperatures and polar vortexes and requisite references to The Day After Tomorrow --  will agree with me that anything above 0 degrees is practically sunbathing weather.

We've lived here just over a year now and after four years in the desert with 100 plus degree temps in the shade being the norm, I think my Maine is starting to show. Proof? Here's a snippet of an actual conversation with The Husband this morning --

Him: it's already 17 degrees out.

Me: (incredulous) Really? How warm's it gonna get?

Remember, people. I'm first-generation on both sides. Pretty sure I may have lost my Mexican card.



Saturdays are our favorite day of the week, I think. For my kid it's heaven because she loves working with the horses more than I think she pretends to hate our dogs. I'm positive she's going to rebel as soon as she gets her own apartment by becoming a crazy cat lady just because she can, Goddammit. But while she cringes at the thought of a dog licking her and touching her skin with the same tongue that just licked its own ass, this girl loves the horses and saw nothing wrong with dropping onto her back in a relatively clear patch of snowy whiteness to make a snow angel. I should probably sanitize the winter jacket but it just makes more sense to make this her Official Farm Winter Coat because it now and forever shall more smell like horseshit.

I couldn't be prouder.


Good friends are moving from one house to another in town and today we got to enjoy the first meal cooked in their new house. I drove by the place twice because I couldn't make out any addresses with the snow coming down so thick. When I finally just guessed and pulled into the drive of the home I thought may be theirs behind the vehicle that I hoped was theirs, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

I was right.

And the house I had driven by, twice now, was directly across the street from the farm we visit each Saturday. And it had only taken me 20 minutes to find it.


Eliana had her first taco tonight.

You guys? She's 6.

Oh, she's had her fair share of black bean quesadillas before we swore of grains and went paleo. But a taco is new and she loved it in the way all children have sworn to hate anything new that we actually want them to eat, like broccoli. My Jewish friend Shosh pointed out that her 2-year-old eats tacos all the time. I pointed out that mine tells me when her sunbutter, full-fat coconut milk, avocado, and kale smoothie is missing something because "More kale please!" is something I will never tire of hearing.

And then I shared the story about the missing Mexican card and Shosh totally said she understood because she's just that kind of friend, you guys.


Time always passes to quickly when we laugh, I think. Before we knew it, it was somehow 10 p.m. and our children needed to be in bed and The Husband was rubbing the sleep from his eyes from exhaustion. He helped move the heavy furniture. I helped hang the curtains.

We had a 20-minute drive back to our own house and time must have still been fast-forwarding because now it was 10:30 and The Husband had already left in his Jeep so he could get the fire going again. We'd been gone most of the day, after all. So Eliana and I drove a little slower than usual on our usual route home and it only took us a little bit longer than usual to make it from Point A to Point B and then the headlights illuminated the drive leading to our house, hidden from view by the thick walls of pine, and the usual suddenly looked new. I had to stop midway up the drive to take this picture because it makes me think of wardrobes and magical kingdoms ruled by wise lions with Liam Niesons' voice.

It's the moments like these that, I think, are a test for us put out by The Universe to see how much we appreciate the moment we are in right now. Welcome to Narnia, y'all. This is where I live.