Hypergraphia is a condition that causes people to transcribe their thoughts uncontrollably. I don't suffer from it in the clinical sense, but I may be borderline. My blog is the cyber-wall where I spray paint my thoughts for all to see. By the way, if you came here directly through blogger --if your page has no yellow frames and no pretty pic of me in the top left corner -- you may want to visit my main site at www.hypergraffiti.com, where you can read this blog and much much more.


I'm Trudy Morgan-Cole, a writer from St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada. My books include "The Violent Friendship of Esther Johnson," "Esther: A Story of Courage," and "Deborah and Barak." I'm also a married mom of two, a teacher in an adult-ed program, and a Christian of the Seventh-day Adventist kind. I blog about writing, reading, parenting, teaching, spirituality, and shiny things that catch my eye.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Camping In

Sometimes in winter, we "camp-in" -- we all sleep downstairs, Jason and me on the sofa-bed, the kids on air mattresses.

There are two reasons for doing this: for fun, or because on certain nights in winter the combination of cold, wind direction, and older home means our house will not get warm no matter how high we turn up the heat. So a couple of times every winter we end up sleeping by the fire.

Last weekend, we had a "camp-in" for fun. Last night, we had one out of necessity.

When we do it for fun, Jason rigs up a makeshift tent in the dining room and the kids put their air mattresses and sleeping bags in there. When we do it because of the cold, everyone squeezes into the living room and we close all the doors to trap the heat.

Either kind of camp-in may involve some or all of the following: roasting marshmallows over the fireplace; drinking hot chocolate in front of the fire; watching videos; reading stories; playing board games; having family worship in front of the fire; telling the kids to be quiet and go to sleep 1,000 times before they finally do.

Last night they bedded down while watching the final scenes of Prince of Egypt. Jason and I retired to bed at the same time, both with books to read. Emma was out like a light immediately, but Christopher took a little longer to settle down. I ventured into the cold upstairs for awhile to check my email and a few other things online. When I came back down everyone was asleep.

It's been so cold here lately that when I got home yesterday and found I couldn't heat the house up to a comfortable level, I almost cried: all I want is to be warm. Just warm.

Last night at 10:30 I went to sleep in a smallish living room with the embers of the fire still glowing in the grate (our fire is excellent for putting out the heat). Next to me was my Big Warm Husband, and a few feet away, also giving off body heat, were the Small Warm Children, at least one of whom was fated to crawl into the bed with us before morning. I was wearing two pairs of socks, a pair of sweat pants, a T-shirt and a nightshirt, most of which were made of, or lined with, fleece. I was warm.

I woke up at about 3:00 and I was hot. I actually had to take off my fleece-lined sweatpants. I lay there gratefully soaking up the feeling of being not just warm, but too warm. It was wonderful.

Now it's 7:00 a.m., the house is still cold and so is the outside. Who knows -- we may be camping in tonight as well!!


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