It's snowing outside.  I've checked several times to see if the flakes are photo worthy.  They aren't.  This morning they are just clumps of ice crystals, which are beautiful in their own way, but not photo worthy. 
    It's quite a chore to set up my computer, camera, and equipment outside on a winter day.  Not to mention preparing myself.  I'm a naturally cold person, so I have to bundle up a lot if I'm going out.  I have to have at least one hand bare through the photography process, so I can adjust the focus as needed.  My fingers get frozen pretty quickly. 
    Despite the nature of the hobby, my heart gets excited when I'm home, with no place to be rushing to, and it starts to snow.  If I check, and the snowflakes are good, I even jump around a little.  This only happens a few times a year, when the planets align just so. 
    Earlier this month I had the chance.  Bailey and I took hundreds of pictures, and ended up saving 104 of them.  It was ideal snowflake conditions:  just the right temperature (about 12 degrees), just the right humidity, and time for us to work. So many beautiful creations!  Every flake was amazing! My new digital microscope met all my expectations. I didn't want to stop, but standing by the fireplace to thaw out finally won me over.
    It's interesting the adrenaline rush I get from capturing and preserving those tiny marvels of nature.  This is my idea of extreme sports.  

    Yesterday, I scrubbed the bathrooms and shopped for Thanksgiving dinner instead of writing.  I had earmarked this weekend as a writing weekend, but I'm afraid it just didn't happen.  I may get to it later today, but probably not.  My 'catch-up' list somehow has taken priority.
    How do you find time to write?  Mine tends to come in spurts and waves.  I'm feeling the need to write, but life is happening too much around me.  I'm a morning person, with my best writing happening the first few hours of the day.  So what do I do when those first few hours are filled up with other things? 
    My weekdays start at 5:15 a.m., and I'm running until I crash about 9:00 p.m.  I don't think I can get up any earlier.  I think I just need to figure out a way to add another day to my weekends.  Is anyone else in favor of an 8 day week?  We could call it Writeday.  It could be sandwiched between Saturday and Sunday.  I think that would work really well for me. We could all band together and sign a petition to send to the International Date Committee.
    Oh well.  I'd better get back to my list.

    My youngest child turned 12 this past week.  Weird.  I remember when I was 12.  I was a short, skinny nerd who loved to run and read and hang with my family.  Yeah, I was a unique tween.  My son is too.  He loves to kick people in the head (taekwondo), disrespect Bach (he prefers playing his piano pieces in his own way, not how they were originally composed), design websites as gifts (Christmas last year), and buck the educational system (already years ahead in math).
    What does a parent do with an unique tween?  My parents let me be, and made sure I knew I was loved.  I think this worked fairly well.  Of course there's lots more to it all than that, but in a nutshell, they let me figure things out on my own, in my own way, with lots of loving support. 
    Why can it sound so simple when you look at it from a broad perspective, but be so complicated in the details?  Raising kids is the challenge of a lifetime, but oh, what joy is also wrapped up in the package.  I was reading in an old journal of mine this morning from when my son was three.  I had written that he often said to  me, "Mom, I want you really bad!"  I had forgotten that completely, so I got a good smile and rush of memories.  I think I'll embarrass him later today and tell him about it too. 
    Embarrassing our children is also a very important parental job.  Like I said, there's also so much joy!