I spent a big chunk of January in Boston. The flight was cheap, I had no in-person obligations in LA, and I wanted to celebrate S's birthday with her. It's the perfect time to go, I kept saying ironically, anticipating snow and ice and wintry mix. Digging out the four pairs of wool socks I own. Packing all three of my sweaters.

You know what? It was the perfect time to go.

I got snow and ice, boy did I get ice, and an alien landscape to run my eyeballs across. I got to cosplay as a suburban mom, scrambling to put food in the faces of teenagers as they banged through the door at 5:45, requiring turnaround by 6, and rides to clarinet, robotics, dance. Trips to the mall for dance clothes, or the New Balance outlet then New Balance store then back to outlet, followed by DSW, Nordstrom Rack, and another mall, where we finally scored Reeboks in size 13. The boy knows what he likes. (And he values my opinion? Which is a huge boost to my middle-aged ego.) I did not drive the minivan, but I did umpteen ride alongs.