...our new tenant moves in. Hip-hip-hooray! I won't be able to park in that garage anymore but it's a small sacrifice to have to scrape or brush snow off my car. I think the snow's waiting until my car's parked outside before it decides to bury us. Last weekend when people all around us were getting snowed on we didn't have more than 3 flakes. Not even a dusting, just none. I'm happy not to have to be shoveling and, even more, driving on the slippery stuff but it sure doesn't look Christmas-y without a covering of the white stuff. I hate to say it but it's true. We may not have snow but we sure have cold. I'm wearing, let's see, an undershirt, long johns, wool socks, jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, a fashion scarf (but it is knitted), and my warm, fleece-lined boots. I should stay warm, don't you think? Oh, and of course I'm wearing regular undies. Geez, what were you thinking? And an elastic knee support because my arthritic knee is complaining these days. I'll need to plan my trips to the bathroom like the Normandy invasion.
December 7--Basse-Terre, Guadeloupe. Like crossed swords the palms along the road to Lucien's place leaned overhead. Marie had seen black and white pictures in Grandmere's album of the same road when the palm were not as tall as a man. Grandmere had told her stories of riding out from town to spend summers up in the hills where it was cooler. Of sneaking out of the house to swim in the pond below the stable on hot, windless nights. She reminisced about handsome young men in white suits and Panama hats coming to call. "I married the handsomest one, cherie," she would say, a tear in her eye. Marie would sigh at the romantic images and wish for those days again. Now here she was riding up into the hills to claim what was left of her family's estate, a tumble-down country house full of termite riddled furniture steeped in faded dreams.
I've gotta run because I want to stop at the library on my way to work. Stay warm today!
--Barbara
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