Last weekend we bought Strudel (if I can invoke my family heritage for a moment) her first mobile home. Seriously, this backpack thing is great. The hippie sling stopped being fun months ago, and the strolly is nice on the back but really difficult to maneuver on Seattle’s crapped up streets. Where’s the pothole brigade been lately, eh, Mayor Gridlock?

Anyway, when my fella came home from work yesterday, we got to take a fun meander in the snow, which is one of our favorite things to do. We saw a woman with a strolly who said, “It’s nice to see someone else out in this.” I said, “I was raised in Illinois, so this is nothing.”

“I was raised in Indiana!” she replied.

“Ah, this is bikini weather, isn’t it?” I said, dismissing the feeble amounts of slush in the gutter. I got her to laugh and agree with my ridiculous statement.

So my handsome fella was out in his full winter regalia, which is a muffin hat and my cast-off, too-big pea coat. I love to see him in this, because it reminds me of two years ago when we used to go for snowy walks and I ended up falling in love with him. And now look: I make him carry our spawn.