VivaCity

Today is an absolutely beautiful day in my neck of the woods. The sun is shining, it's warm(ish), & the leaves are lazily floating down all around. I'm thinking we'll take little Spence out to the park, as this may prove to be our last genuinely nice day of the year. Then...bum ba BUM...Snow, and ice, and all manner of things hazardous to this commuting chick. Ick. I keep threatening to move to Arizona. I actually know nothing about Arizona, but I hear it's a nice dry heat. I'm IN.

Irregardless...(I'm KIDDING, if you ever actually say this non-word to me, I'll take it as a personal affront & bitch-slap you)...We are looking at an inevitable stretch of cabin fever ahead of us. There are only so many times you can read The Boy's favorite book, or watch Toy F Me Sideways Story (oh no, it seems I'm tired of this one already, & winter isn't even fully upon us), or glue popsicle sticks together or whatever fun projects I can pull off my bookmarked kiddie websites. I can never come up with something truly original. I'm crafty like a fox, and only that way.

Where was I? Oh, cabin fever, indeed. These two words, along with "financial preparedness" are possibly the only obstacle on the path to having three children. I simply don't think I can stand to be sardine-d in with one more single person over the course of an impossibly long, dreary Ohio winter. For a scary sight, swing by my place around, oh, February-ish, peek inside, and watch the zombies duke it out over the remote. Fun times.

My last thought on this as I prepare to hibernate is this...If you take the term "cabin fever" lightly, consider this...There was a gentleman you may remember who suffered through a child-induced case of cabin fever. His name was Jack Torrance. 'Nuff said.