a minnesota winter

"what do you do up there?"

said the man on the plane.  the man who told me about his nanny and his housekeeper.  the man from chicago.

once, i cross country skied; once, i ice fished; once, i went for a wild atv ride.  i rode on a train, had ok sushi, a couple of great steaks.  i shopped, because i needed hiking shoes, new carhartt bibs, a lot of wool socks, and some mukluks.  i spent a lot of time with my parents, possibly even more with my husband's parents.  i saw my grandmother almost regularly.  i got too drunk at my book club meetings, went to an orchestral duo (trio less the snowed out cellist?), a laser light play, a folk concert, an indoor water park, the north shore.  my kids had gymnastics and swimming classes, skating and violin lessons, too many birthday parties.  i did a painfully small amount of yoga.  i spent too many late nites chatting with my girlfriends in restaurants and at a couple of winter bonfires.  i drove heavy equipment, snowshoed, learned and researched (stuff).

i did everyday kind of things:  read books, helped with homework, attended dentist and doctor appointments, grocery shopped, ran on a treadmill, tried to make occasional meals, car pooled, dated my husband, made desperate attempts to keep up with the laundry.

"i don't know."  i said.  "not much."