Ready for spring and it's not even winter... and thoughts about family.

Note the date: Thursday, December 18, 2008. Actually, the only important part of that was "December 18." It's still fall. Granted, it looks like winter. It feels like winter. The 10 inches of snow we're supposed to get tonight and tomorrow will make it seem an awful lot like winter. But technically, technically, winter doesn't officially begin for another three days. It's not even winter yet and already we've accumulated well over a foot of snow (not counting tomorrow's dump). It's not even winter yet and I'm more than ready for spring.

I realize my last few entries have mostly revolved around my displeasure with the increasingly cold weather, so I'll try to think of something else to say...

My brother turned 17 last weekend. Ack! I keep a picture of him from when he was 3 on my bedroom mirror. He's wearing a straw hat, a pillowcase cape, and sweatpants up past his bellybutton. It's the costume for his superhero alter-ego, the Massed Offender. It's supposed to be "Masked Avenger," but when you're 3 you say what you can. He's a junior in high school now, well past the years of Winnie-the-Pooh and make-believe. His favorite way to pass the time (when he's not with his girlfriend, I'm guessing) is to play drums in his band Are We Dead Yet? I asked him to explain that name to me once but I still didn't understand. Maybe it's a teen angst thing. Anyway, it makes him happy.

His hair is once again a 'fro, his thick blond curls too fabulous to chop off. There was a long period of time when he kept his hair rigidly short. Maybe it was the private Christian school, maybe it was maternal influence. Either way, 2nd-7th grade saw a ferociously uptight Nicky. The poor kid. It's hard to be yourself - at that age, to find yourself - when the odds are stacked against you. I should know, I've been there. We went to the same school, we have the same mother. And that isn't a slam against Mom. It's just the truth. She knows it. Her two kids will struggle all their lives with perfectionism, inferiority, and general social awkwardness. I've learned how to deal, but it's taken me a long time and I still don't have a handle on it completely. Nick-o, well, I'm so impressed with the person he's becoming. He's a good kid. A good 17-year-old kid.

He'll be looking at colleges now, deciding what to do with his future. It's nerve-racking to think that next year his high school graduation will fall on the 10-year anniversary of my own. Ack! (Another ack!) How time flies. His future is his to make. Possibilities? Endless. I remember that time well. Everything was unknown, but there was so much hope. What would I study? What would I do? Where would I work? Who would I marry, and when we I meet him? Each year that passes the future gets shorter (now if that isn't a happy thought I don't know what is...). I guess that's why we make the most of it while we can.

I hope my brother doesn't decide to do something with his life because he feels obligated, or because he feels it's his only option. I hope he knows he can do anything. Well, maybe not anything, but almost. I hope his increasingly cynical view of the world diminishes as he gets older, not because there aren't things to be cynical about in our world, but because going through life jaded is no way to live. I hope he learns to be truly happy. (I'm not saying he isn't happy now, but he's in high school, you know? How happy can a kid really be with all the crap that comes with it?)

Anyway, I guess I've gone on about the Nickster long enough. Time to call it quits tonight and catch up on Grey's... think it'll be a new one tonight? One can hope.