Fire on the Hill

We spent the weekend taking our clothes off and on ... nothing kinky mind you. Mittens. Scarves. Hats. Socks. Sweaters. If you like hard work, it was really wonderful. It was the fourth weekend in a row where we've just hung out at home all weekend. I spent a chunk of the weekend studying up on soybeans and never straying far from the fire.

And, when we did leave the house: we left it fast. Unlike most Southerners, we own five sleds. And, we've used them all. In fact, right now Jeff is sledding/walking the mile loop through the neighborhood on the runner sled. It's 9:00. At night. But the sledding is so invigorating and he won't get this opportunity tomorrow since I'm flying out of town and the girls are home from school. (Update: he just came back and reports it was the ride of his life and his longest run was at least a quarter mile long on the hills -- thank God he didn't meet a car.)

I spent much of the weekend in the kitchen, I tried to mimic the outstanding homemade yeast rolls and cinnamon buns that my mother made us as kids. My dinner rolls looked like small rocks but they had the yeast flavor I was craving. The cinnamon rolls this morning were pretty tasty so I think I redeemed myself.

It's funny ... between studying soybeans (my dad is a soybean farmer in Indiana) and thinking about all the great snow days we had with my mom ... I'm almost a little homesick.