It snowed here. Lots of good packing snow that Frankie was thrilled by. We spent some time chucking snowballs at one another until Daddy came home and I handed off that activity quick as a cat could wink her eye. I don't care for physical exertion of any kind. This is becoming problematic, as I am becoming elderly and really should be exercising for my physical and mental well-being. But I can't stand it. I cannot force myself to do it. I have tried taking up jogging exactly twice in my life. Once was in grad school, wearing purple spandex shorts, and I think I maybe made it up to one mile. A few years ago I actually made it to about two miles, but I am telling you what, it nearly killed me. My husband can go months without running but can suddenly pick up and jog off in the sunset for an hour. I literally need about seven weeks to work up to jogging to the stop sign at the end of the road. The minute I begin to breathe heavily, I can think of no earthly reason why I should continue when I could be reading a book and eating Cream Cheese and Chives Wheat Thins.
Besides the advent of high heart rates from slogging through the snow, winter has also brought deer hunting to our little neighborhood. Imagine my surprise, and the surprise of the tender sensibilities of my child, when we looked out the window to find a dead deer hanging in the neighbor's back yard.