When Husband is “working in another office”, a number of things happen in no particular order.

Boys get a little hyper. Mama loses her shit. The kitchen and playroom are more untidy. The garbage does not get taken out. I stay up late because I don’t know what to do with myself. I catch up on episodes of Scandal. More clothes get washed but less get put away (there is a definite niche for iRobot!). I turn the electric blanket lengthwise on our bed.

We have a big house but we only hang out in one area, and it has doors everywhere to close it off from hallways and other rooms, so that is where we use the heating. Our bedroom is currently 45F, which is bloody cold! It was as low as 42 last week, eeeek! And while the salesperson did tell us that memory foam takes 7-10 minutes to warm up to your body temperature and conform to your shape when we bought our bed and pillows, they did not mention that you could sprain yourself on it at low temperatures! Memory foam is akin to concrete in my unheated bedroom! Hence the electric blanket, or heated throw. We slip it into the bed a bit before bedtime so we don’t go into shock when we wrap ourselves in freezing cotton, and we put the pillows on it as well so we don’t break our necks when we lay on them. 

Getting into bed tonight, I had thoughfully put the blanket on nearly 2 hours before, so the bed was roasty toasty and sort of gave me a second wind. Husband would argue that I don’t need anymore wind, but he would digress. The trick – or trouble – is to take the blanket off before falling asleep, so I don’t bake for an hour or more and wake up dehydrated. And that is a distinct possibility, since Husband is not here to wake me when he moves around and lets in cold air (hysterical screaming), or keeps me awake and amused listening to his occasional snoring snorts when he falls asleep before me.

Now I must sign off before I fall asleep and snort myself awake and let in the cold air.

Snow days are awesome because all you need to do is stay home and frolick. Of course, the next day is a different story.
There was snow and ice everywhere on the roads, and while I was happy enough to sleep in (boys came barreling downstairs at 5.36, wtf?!) and forego the morning gym class, I could not reneg on my haircut because I have wanted one for weeks, snow and ice be damned. Husband was not happy about me driving, but there was no more snow overnight. There was, however, 6 cars abandoned on a side road!
After snipping and smoothing, I dashed off to buy a birthday present, which I ended up forgetting to put in the car after the card was written, boo.
Anyhoo, I would make it home in good time but not enough to dress the boys for one of 6.5yo’s friend’s birthday party. So, I asked Husband to have the boys ready to go when I got there…husbands are great for making babies, not so much for organising them. Husband claimed to not have heard the message, but woe betide me when I don’t hear one of his messages beeping or miss one of his calls. Bloody hell.
At the birthday party there was a handful of 5-7yos at the table by themselves, so grown up! I can see that I will have to change things a little for his birthday next year. Sleepovers will be next, where they all yell and wrestle and giggle in the lounge room and sneak candy when they think we aren’t listening.
Post party, we had to pick up Husband’s car from the service centre. Driving home on the winding and hilly backroads, he slides out in front of a neighbour’s house down the road. We ended up leaving him (perchance for the wolves) to drive home and forget that present. At least I remembered to grab a gf muffin from my freezer stash. The 2 little boys were asleep in their seats, and Husband was towed home while we drove to the 2nd birthday party. It was at The Home Depot (I always think of when will Ferrell says that in Old School) and it was a great party. When we got home Husband had cleaned the kitchen so he was high fiving himself and “in your face”ing me. He will probably be sleeping alone.
I am yet to get organised for my snowshoeing adventure tomorrow, but after the past 2 days, I’m looking forward to a small adventure, rather than falling into snow caves and surviving by drinking our own urine type adventures.
Wine will fortify me for either of the above.

I still have not finished refencing the chicken yard. It is bigger than we want because I added the new area at one end but have not decreased the other end. Of course, the birds would not go in the new area initially, but eventually they realised that the fence was gone and began pecking around the new territory.
But new horizons beckoned further, apparently, and I found them getting out of the yard (perhaps a section of low fencing?), and come 5pm, unable to get back in. I did spend a few twilight minutes each day persuading tired and disoriented birds back into the yard so they could find their way back to the roost for a short while. And actually, that is pretty freaky, especially as I don’t particularly like being close to birds, and especially when one of those birds is a big fluffy rooster who has given over the idea of roosting in a cozy house in favour of jamming himself into a corner of siding because he is as good as asleep already.
Poor Buffy. He was a brash, bold and beautiful bird, but he is no more. He was the big cock around these parts for 18 months, but he was taken last week by something, perhaps a hawk, perhaps a raccoon or coyote. At times he reminded me of the salty old rooster from the movie Chicken Run.
And Bill Murray, too, poor lass. My spirited flock is less for your loss, in more than just numbers. I have to be philosophical about living the country, however. I know the birds and beasts need to eat, and when someone goes wandering, or even just stands around looking juicy, well then, I know that nature is going to take it’s course. I can, however, push the beasts a little further away from my birds by brush cuttering the fuck out of the blackberries around the place,  and maybe claim back much of the yard for my human family as well. Perhaps the blackberries are covering the perfect spot for the hiking trail, actually I’m bloody well sure they are. I’m also pretty sure that some skulkers might be in there somewhere, living or walking through, I still don’t like it. The blackberries are probably suffocating a lot of plants that were put in by the original owner a decade or so ago. I discovered apple and cherry trees in the “lower 48” last year, so I’m hopeful of finding flowers as well. If I find feathers, then so be it.

After driving home late and getting to bed at midnight, the boys still woke up at 6.15. I was not thankful this morning.
After drinking late and getting up late, Husband still feels like crap. He is not thankful this morning.
After staying up late and waking up at their usual hour, the boys knew that friends would be visiting today, and they were appropriately loud in their thankfulness. I would be thankful for some peace and bloody quiet.
I would be thankful if I enjoyed eating greens and proteins more than I enjoy eating potato salads, cookies and muffins, but those things aren’t going to crumble to stomach acid on their own.
I won’t be thankful after going to the gym this evening, as I’m sure my arms and legs will again be sore, but then i will think of the chocolate turkey, and my thanks will be in abundance.

Thanksgiving is something that sort of comes naturally to us now, though being Australian, it is still an American tradition.
We have our own turkey for lunch after walking around all morning in our pajamas,  and frantically scaring up vegetables for the impending lunch. After naps, we head to a friend’s house for more turkey and fellowship.
Last year the big boys ended the night by watching a movie in the ipad; tonight they are riproaring around the house with large stuffed dogs and pestering the dad-aged men into rough-housing with them. Nearly 3yo has passed out on the couch and is sleeping through said rough-housing and karaoke.
I managed to limit myself to feeling full after dessert, rather than unzipping my skirt a bit and stuffing myself silly. I had 2 dessert items and probably 3 helpings, so I’m good. Unless we stay long enough for my food to settle and I start thinking about 15ths.
I joined the gym a few days ago and have been to two classes in as many days, so I really don’t those extra helpings. So far I am having a little bit of muscle resistance when I sit down in the powder room but it’s getting better. I will have to think of the chocolate ass turkey when I am doing it tough on the stationary bike.

It sure tasted good, but I don’t want to be thinking about when I zip up my gorgeous black vintage number before tripping out to the opera in the new year!
I am thankful for many things, but also for my current resolve to get my chocolate ass to the gym.

That feeling when you, as a parent of small children, get into the car by yourself and drive nimbly around all the corners into town, and as you search for stuff in your bag, find an uneaten (and miraculously untouched) peppermint brownie cake pop.

Nothing of that sucker left.