Our Thanksgiving

I am so utterly enchanted by the people I get to call my family. My sister, as I'm sure you all know, is everything to me. Her husband is so good to all of us, and their kids make me happier than I ever knew three people could. Thomas is a better and better husband to me every day that we're together, and so often I find myself just looking around the room thinking how did I get so damn lucky. Last year on Thanksgiving, things really began to fall apart for my immediate family. It isn't something I talk about a lot, with the people in my life or on this blog, but it's the reality of my story and Thanksgiving is one highlight that I was happy to see made new again this year. There was snow on the ground, the boys were in sweaters, and the food was all beyond my wildest food dreams, which I assure you, is saying something.

We played Apples to Apples until the early hours of the morning, slept for a few hours, and then drove down south to join my in-law's for a day of board games and more leftovers than we could eat. But try we did, and everyone slept well with tummies full of pie and wool socks on our feet.


late night quiet

There have been some changes in the St.Clair casa lately, as I finally come to terms with what it means for Thomas to need to go to sleep after dinner so that he can ultimately leave for work at hours I like to pretend don't exist. As I've complained about mentioned a few times before, maybe more on Instagram than here, he's temporarily on this odd schedule that has him waking up at 2 or 3 in the morning, supposedly in order to accommodate the other schedules of the guys in his lab. Or something like that. Mostly, I'm pretty sure they're all super spies. (Maybe when your husband works for the man, that's not something I'm supposed to say. Whateva.)

In any case, for awhile I tried going to sleep at the same time as him and waking up at the same time, knocking out a few hours of work before the sun came up - and I liked it. And then I started having trouble getting to sleep, so I was only sleeping for three or four hours each night, and the system fell apart and a new plan was needed, so a new plan was made. He goes to bed at an endearingly early hour, preparing me for the decades in the future where we turn in around 8:00pm to read crime novels and sleep in full set pajamas, and I stay up and work on what I'm working on until 11pm or 2am or whenever it is. He wakes up moments after I go to bed, and I have to say, it really solves the whole stop-stealing-my-blankets problem that can really plague a couple of chilly humans in the winter. He's at least six hours into his day by the time I wake up, 

Maybe, given this block of time I've know found myself with, I'll find my way back to a daily blogging routine that I once held so dear. Maybe I'll get my inbox under control again. Perhaps I'll lay out my clothes for the week (not likely) or cook ahead for the next day (even less likely), but the opportunity is there and that's the part that makes me think this is all going to work out for the best. 

So if you need me I'll be writing. Editing pictures. Doing more writing, planning, and thinking ahead. Blogging for Spark and writing for our upcoming workshop (!!). Yawning a little, and remembering that these stages of life go by too damn fast.


Some Mornings

Some mornings the sleepiness and the anxiety and the dark of late fall consume me and my morning routine dissipates into a late cup of coffee on a cold couch. Not all mornings are like that.

Some mornings I wake up, reach for my phone, turn the alarm off four minutes before it rings, and text Thomas a good morning/how was your commute/thanks for carrying the dog food up from the car even though it's freezing outside. I wait for it to be 6:00, so I can check that the Spark posts went up (this has way more to do with me being excited to see them than anything else). Scrolling through Instagram, I remind myself that I need a better morning routine - one that doesn't involve require screens. I slip into my biggest sweater, swear as I do every morning that tonight I will think to put a warm pair of pants, socks, anything by the bed so getting up is less of a freezing experience, and trudge to the bathroom. The weirdest thing about T rising for work at 2:30 in the morning is that by the time I get up, early by my own account, the bathroom no longer has that freshly showered man smell. I think about when we lived downtown in Blacksburg, and got up at the same time. Flurried through the house together. Drove to work together. I miss it, but I like this better because it feels like the next step. This virgo loves accomplishment and this is a "step in the right direction" - no matter how much that sentence may grate against my general life philosophy.

I remember about a study that says you should drink a glass of water in the morning before anything else, and thinking about my body being all dehydrated for the last 8 hours (even though it's gotta be built for that, right?) freaks me out, so I drink two glasses and start the coffee. I love the feeling in the house as the sun starts to come up, and no one else is home or awake. While the coffee brews I run hot water and soap over the dishes in the sink, light a candle because the kitchen has a weird smell that no one else ever notices, and start a load of towels in the washing machine. Pouring into my favorite white mug, I think about the Whole16 (that's not really a thing) I have coming up, and how I won't be consuming sugar, and how when that happens I'll probably just give coffee up all together. My brain is firing so much faster now than it was thirty minutes ago, and the day is starting to feel more real.

Some mornings, I feel just like myself.