Things I love about winter:
Sitting by the fire, preferably with my colourful blanket that my mother crocheted for me on my lap.
Wearing my fuzzy slippers
(PS It’s winter in Australia. I had to wear a coat yesterday. Well…not *yesterday* – but last week I wore it, like, three times)
How I can tell I’m getting old:
I sit around wrapped in a crocheted blanket
I look forward to eating soup. I used to hate soup and salad and was always “bring on the pizza”, but now I’m all “Let’s grow some pumpkins and turnips and I can cook up a giant pot of soup.”
Also, I planted turnips in the vegie garden. And I planted a vegie garden.
I get around the house wearing my fuzzy slippers.
This must be what they mean when they talk about being in one’s winter years. Do they say that, or did I just make that up? Being unable to remember whether you said something or someone else did is another sign…