I'm getting over a cold, or maybe the flu. It started with Calvin, whom I'm sure brought it home from one of his increasingly frequent activities and generously shared. He wouldn't want me to feel left out (his father, on the other hand, has so far remained unscathed). It was a doozy, which came on with a vengeance and has since petered out in the most uncompromising manner: a slow trickle in the nose, an annoying tickle in the throat, an unshakeable tiredness. My only real complaint about this winter rite of passage, though, is that it's just a little too springy outside for me to want to be curled up inside nursing a stubborn virus.
It was so beautiful this weekend, in fact, that on my run I communed with robbins, squirrels, cardinals, titmice, woodpeckers, and even a few humans in the mix. They are all coming out of winter hiding. And while I know we will likely see another onslaught of snow and/or ice, I can't help but feel that some shift has taken place and that, on a whole, we have turned the corner towards a warmer season.
After Cinderella yesterday and the delight of a day and evening spent with beloved friends, today was a day for serious performance—the first Boychoir performance of the new semester/season/year. And as Saturday saw us driving an hour east to Detroit, Sunday saw us driving an hour west to Battle Creek for a church's wine and cheese happy hour. The performance was wonderful. Calvin has grown so in his singing over the past two years. He auditioned into a spot in a small group choir that I got to hear for the first time this afternoon as well, something I hope he is proud of for the time and attention he has dedicated to it.
I did not partake in either wine or cheese, but I can say that the afternoon performance was worth the trip. Not that I'm biased at all.
