Another Monday, (sigh) and I'm not ready to give myself back up to work. I wish it were Friday, and I could do the whole weekend over again.

Last night, I spent a few hours tooling about search engines, trying to find an Adirondack cabin retreat, for just KC and I to go to, for my mid-winter vacation. I didn't have much luck.

Oh, I found cabins alright, but all the ones I fell absolutely in love with, were so outrageously priced that I couldn't even afford to commune with nature.

I'm recreating again. It's what I do when I want to remember something, when I want to feel as if I can recapture a moment in time.

When I was a little girl, my Mom and Daddy Chick, took Amy and I on vacation to Blue Mountain Lake. We stayed in a rustic little cottage, nestled on the side of the mountain, and went fishing during the days, and played board games around the fire at night.

It was wonderful.

I can even recall the old neighbor man that lived next door, a full time resident. He had taught the deers to come feed right from his hand, standing there patiently as they slowly ate the apples that he gave them.

I remember thinking, even back then, that this was the life I wanted to lead. I guess it wasn't so abnormal for a girl who watched Little House on the Prarie faithfully, and believed that Laura Ingalls had it all.

I want to give KC that kind of memory. The memory of hand sewn comforters, soft pine bunk beds, wood next to the fire, and the gentle glow of light from a candle illuminating the darkness, savoring the quiet moments of being family.