I somehow managed to pack my weekend to the point where I did not do that silly thing called rest. At all. Who needs it?
Perhaps the girl recovering from a sinus infection should have thought about that a little more.
And yet, I wouldn't have missed any of it.
On Saturday, I went out into the mountains. There is something about the mountains, in their silent layers of snow, that makes my heart feel both empty and full at the same time. Snow-shoeing is much noisier than cross-country skiing - no moments of silence in the woods - but also much less scary - no sliding sideways into trees or down into valleys.
I probably shouldn't have gone. I was on the prednisone days (that stuff about it clearing my sinuses: lies, all lies, apparently nothing will ever clear my sinuses as long as I live out here; fortunately that stuff about it making you crazy: also lies, for me), and I should have slept in and rested.
But, oh, the mountains. The blue sky. The white snow. The little snowboarders high on the butte. How could I have missed it?
My friend J.'s birthday was Saturday, and on Friday night I made cookies to bring as my contribution. My momma gave me a cookie cutter in the shape of a mitten in my Christmas stocking. A January birthday seemed the perfect occasion to use it.
I tried to take a picture at the party, and L. told me to hold up one mitten in each hand, a left and a right, but I'd made them all left hands, like the Mitten.