Squirrel Flurry

Domestication continues. Our place is all but put together and is very lovely and cozy now. Check out the new sofa in the living room:


Not cheap, but very cozy. Yesterday I took an early morning walk to Whole Foods (yep - there I've said it) for some dinner party ingredients and a Sunday paper. The sofa is pretty nice for a kick-back-and-read-the-paper-Sunday, especially with the big windows and the gas fireplace right there. Nicely fitting into our increasingly ambiguous domestic roles, Beth fixed the pilot light on the gas fireplace after I complained it was a little cold.
It snowed yesterday, both on the morning walk and off and on throughout the day. But as Beth says, it was friendly snow - so light it seemed to fly up almost as much as down and never really seemed to reach the ground.
There's a squirrel family in the tree right outside the upstairs window. Apparently, the parent squirrel woke up early yesterday, crawled out and sat on his perch in the surprise snow and after a brief survey of the morning scene sat still and simply yelled "Fuck!" to himself and then continued to sit there - apparently.
Walking the area is becoming an interesting pastime. I was struck by how even in a densely populated place, Sunday mornings are still oddly and wonderfully quiet. Walked by the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament with its parking lot full of early worshipper cars but not a human in sight and then down towards the market. It was brisk and the wind made the snow a bit less friendly. Saw three joggers with two strollers - the joggers all decked out in their newest and brightest REI finest ass-hugging gear. Two ladies and a guy, all maybe mid-foties. They all seemed surprised when one of the babes began to cry, I'm guessing from the discomfort of cold and snow on its soft little face. These people really pissed me off. I mean, really - do you need to take that jog today? It's 8am on a Sunday and snowing outside. Don't think it will reach 30 degrees for a few hours. Sure you're tough in your gear but it's not about you. Skip the fucking baby jog today. When I saw them they weren't really jogging, more running with an urgency of a selfish hobby parent who has just realized that maybe, just maybe, their 8-month old doesn't like to be pulled from their blankie to be jerked around in the elements so their parents can feel accomplished for the week. Tuck that lil' fucker in for some Thomas the Train and kick back with a coffee and a paper. Relax. That's what Sundays are for.
By the way, today makes two weeks without a cigarette. Can you tell?