Today was a work-at-home day for Taylor, so for most of it, we sat side by side in the study, both grouchy and sleepy, wishing the GD Sun would come out already. The crucial difference between our two work days being, of course, that at some point I just plum gave up and went upstairs to take a nap. Typically, napping would mean that Ceri is suffering depression but at this point it's just that winter is getting old.
I want to follow Owen while he scooters/bikes around the neighbourhood.
I want to sit at our back table in the Sun.
I want to go camping at Shenandoah.
I want to go bike riding with my boys.
(I'm going running tomorrow morning, which will help start the day off.)
For lunch, Taylor and I dragged our puffy-coat-clad asses to Panera for some low-fiber, high-fat deliciousness. As is surprisingly common, we each ordered the exact same thing: mac and cheese and tomato soup. Then we sat quietly and people watched. We spotted two senior citizens toting their own oxygen. Taylor pointed out a young lady in stiletto boots: boots that he apparently finds hideous and unattractive. (See? There's a reason we two got married.)
And then we started plotting our future: We move to Richmond, enroll Owen in some candy-ass private school, and open a donut shop with our good friends A and K. I told Taylor that I could handle the change; I mean, they have running clubs in Richmond, right? Having to put Owen in private school would end my stellar career in the PTA, however. Rich kids don't need my help.
So, got any good names for donut shops? It's hard to riff off of "doughnut" without creating marginally pornographic names. But so far, we've come up with Mojo Doughnuts. And, if we decide to combine two businesses in one: Mojo Doughnuts and Dojo.