Newsletter-Early-Week

There are two types of people in this world: those who enjoy a peaceful, uneventful lunch break and those who, despite all intentions, end up sprinting through ditches chasing sheep. My work buddy, JA, and I fall into the latter category. We don’t look for chaos—it finds us. It finds us in minivans (RIP Wild Cherry), in cemeteries, in mysteriously scented neighborhoods, and in the occasional misplaced trash can attached to a wheelchair. The latest? Sheep. And, as usual, I got the raw end of the deal—literally, in the form of soaking wet shoes, a concerned sheep, and the realization that I’m not nearly as fast as I thought.

Winter storms used to mean chaos: kids running in and out of the house, dripping snow on the floor, asking for hot cocoa, and devouring snacks like a pack of wild animals. Snow days were full of sledding, snowman-building, and non-stop eating. Now, as empty nesters, my husband and I sit in the quiet, watching snow fall with a strange mix of nostalgia and relief.