Jet's mixing hoisin into his pho soup and noodles.
"Whatcha doing?" I ask.
Without looking up Jet says, "Folding. I'm folding."
There is snow outside. Feathery, light stuff. Jet and John are out in it, all bundled up. Jet's wearing two socks I knit him when he was much smaller, as mittens. He won't wear normal mittens of any stripe, but he'll wear the socks on his hands, heels at his thumbs. Jet even holds his thumbs out so that I can line them up with the heels. They're making miniscule snow balls and tossing them at each other. Jet's using his push car as a snow plow to clear the driveway, and parts of the lawn as he veers about...
Wow. For all that I bitch about the weather here, snow is still such a magical thing to have on ones backyard when one is a kid. Jet's loving it.
Black, snowy, cold as a Nazgul's breath... and the steady click of the Pikachu, counting my steps as I walk beneath a silver blanket of stars...
Miles to Rivendell: 346