It’s almost March, did you know that? Being a girl that lives just below the Mason-Dixon line, that means winter is almost over. It’s been a cold one this year, even by my Minnesota standards. I’ve biked to work in 15 degrees, walked home in eight and felt like a champion each and every time.
We have only had one snow day and a handful of late starts this year, which seems drastically unfair compared to last year’s level of snow accumulation/snow days. The city of D.C. is generally a baby about weather but I won’t ever complain about staying home from work on a Tuesday and spending hours tending to a pot of homemade chicken broth for matzo ball soup. Although, it would be nice if the city would pick my garbage in a timely fashion.
My mom, younger brothers, Tim and Jack, and I spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s in Mexico. Four people, seven days, one hotel room. But after some initial low blood sugar-related fits (and starts) the first day, we enjoyed each other company. I have not lived in the same city as my brothers or mother in over six years. It is amazing to me sometimes how alike we are and at times, how little we really know about each other living so far apart.
What I do know:
Jack, age 22, recent college graduate and all around the most favored youngest child, is the best of us three. He is quiet and thoughtful and has these gigantic muscles that we can’t stop talking about. I can count on one hand the amount of times I have seen Jack outraged in his whole life, while Tim and I probably were outraged at least three times last week. Tim, age 25 and the typical middle child, just moved back to Minneapolis – deeming it time for himself to grow up a bit, making the dreaded decision to become an adult. In this choice, he is really going to shine. I can tell already.
Upon my return to the District of Columbia on January 4, I decided leaving the house was overrated. And more or less did not for the next month, save for work and school. Three Fridays in a row my roommate came home to find me buried on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns. One week I ate summer sausage and goat cheese for dinner. Top Shelf Ramen noodles the next. And I was perfectly content.
I emerged towards the end of the month ready to be out in the world. For my official reentrance to a social life, Natalie and I went to happy hour at our preferred early twenties dive (we’re not in our early twenties any more, it turns out), ordered pitchers of Bud Light on a Thursday and stayed out really late. Over the course of the evening, we collected stray Hill staffers, including one bright and shiney 23-year-old from Michigan whose enthusiasm for life was nothing short of adorable. We talked shop, talked politics, talked shit. I had a Shake-Shack-at-11:30am type of hangover the next day but was reminded the world was nice.
Otherwise, I’m just stumbling forward, as my father likes to say. My mom will be in D.C. next week. I really need to start paying better attention in class. Cousin Josephine and I just booked tickets to Iceland and Copenhagen for August. I hope to bring home a pet puffin, but as my old co-worker comment, “I’m certain you can bring one home as a sandwich. As a pet might be more controversial.”
And speaking of Josephine, tomorrow is her birthday! Happy birthday, Josephine! My favorite I’m-happy-I-don’t-have-a-sister-because-I’ve-got-you, cousin. And for a final thought, I highly recommend a “Return of the Mack” Pandora station.