Most people celebrated the new year with parties, fireworks, glasses of champagne and little finger foods. Hubby and I sat in our pjs (hubby probably didn’t even have pants on), and watched a movie. I checked my phone to see the time and the new year had rolled in. I think we were drinking our usual whisky and coke. Nothing crazy. One day is the same as the next. Exhaustion leads our day and Junior’s mood sets the tone. Our only time off is when we crawl into the mancave in the basement to watch a movie, we don’t even have cable to be able to watch the ball drop.
New Year’s day we painted the playroom a blue, and mounted a giant chalk board I found for free on Kijiji. The playroom is coming together, and although it’s filled to the brim with toys that Junior received from Santa, I’m sure it will be enough space for him to crawl around safely and I can watch while prepping food in the kitchen. Later on, Hubby, sensing my unease at the day being “just like all the rest” advised that we should go out for some drinks, Junior in tow. I crawled out of my yoga pants and into “street mom” clothes, dragged a brush through my hair and found a pair of earrings. I had one foot in my rubber boot, before changing my mind and actually wearing my black boots. It’s hard to bread habits of a country mom. We headed out to the local popular pub for our first time out in a full year. We hadn’t been to dinner in our town since we moved, almost a year ago. We settled in to a back booth while the open mic guests were regaling the tiny room with folk songs and stories. The issue with being married to a chef is that sadly we become food snobs, and the issue with being me, is that I’m cheap. So we opted for a plate of nachos and a few beer. Junior sat on the table, amazed with his surroundings, large ceiling fans, old hippies with slouching country hats, and plates mounded with food from their buffet. Hubby chatted with the chef, we made a bit of conversation with the locals and of course everyone was “making smiles” at Junior. We stayed for a few hours, enjoyed the music, the atmosphere and the locals, and soon slid out the back door, stuffed Junior into his car seat, and drove back to our rural life.