Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

Something very interesting is happening between my husband and me now that I've moved out. We are finding we can actually be together and have a fun time. As long as I go to my place after a few hours, or he goes to his place after a few hours. I've said for the past five years or so that he and I do much better apart than we do together. I've also joked here and there, after several hours of being with my husband, that I've had more than enough husband time. Friday was our anniversary. I hadn't been thinking about it due to the state of our relationship, and I made plans to attend a concert at Allerton. The Bashful Youngens and Birds of Chicago were scheduled to play, and I knew I would enjoy sitting on the lawn, listening as the sun went down. My husband, though, had been thinking about our anniversary and asked me to go to dinner. I countered with an offer to ride along with me to Allerton. He accepted. And we had a nice time. The young woman of the Bashful Y...

For many years now, I've not had a desk of my own at home. When I was using a laptop, I would simply sit on the couch or at the dining room table or in the hammock swing and work. Once I switched over to a desktop, I needed a space, especially with having two monitors (which I love, love, love!). Since December, I've been using the part of the desk my husband fashioned, taking what was the L-shape piece from his desk and moving it to create one long piece against the wall of the office. The space works though it is very cramped. The space works though it means I have to be in the same room with my husband at times since his computer is at the other end of the desk. The space works. But . . .. Sunday, I bought my own desk. A mammoth, bit beat up wood desk. Seven drawers. A pull-out shelf on each side. Lots of space. For my computer. For my drafts. For my books. Lots of space. To doodle. To sketch. To jot down ideas when they strike. To create. The desk is nestled...