I even slept until 8:30, I think that might be a record. I was tired after snowshoeing with Porter and then shoveling the driveway three times yesterday. Three! Yes, three times I got out a shovel and moved snow, not a lot each time, but enough that my back and shoulders are a bit achy today. Snowshoeing was a blast. The new snow was fluffy, not that wet heavy stuff, so Porter and I had a great time although I did learn that a dip filled with leaves doesn't compact like snow does so my snowshoe drops right into it. Good thing I take a ski pole. Porter found something "interesting" (smelly, I think) under the snow and dug and dug, then she tried to roll in it and succeeded in trussing herself up like a Christmas goose, she could barely stand up because her legs were tied together. It took a few minutes to get her untangled but we managed to keep going. She's so much fun to watch because she gets such joy out of bounding through the snow and snuffling where the bunnies sleep in the thick shrubbery.
I met my knitting pal, AT, at the Grapevine Cafe and we had a lovely lunch. We shared a chicken quesadilla (I'm a sucker for quesadilla) and spent a couple three hours talking about art and gardening and husbands (only a little) and all sorts of things. I really enjoyed it, then I got to go to Walmart to do some grocery shopping, come home, scarf down supper, and go to Friday Night Knitting. A perfect day, except for all that snow shoveling over and over again. Right now the clouds are thin enough that the sun, yes, the actual day star, is shining down upon me. Ahhh, I might survive the season after all. (I have the full-spectrum lamp on too, just in case the clouds thicken--like they just did, tsk.)
I forgot to take along the bag of chicken veggies so I'll probably have to go back today. What a pity, because I'll probably get to see LC again too. I only saw her for a minute yesterday. When I picked Porter up she was still sleeping and when I dropped Porter off she was getting ready to go see Nana and Grandpa Doc in Shawano but I did snap a quick one of her in her polar bear suit.
January 18--Lawrence Kilburn, Portrait of a Lady. Lily lay under that ugly oil painting of an eighteenth century woman. Grace had never liked the painting. She had tried to put it in the attic more than once but Drake said it was "important" in that snobby way of his so she turned her chair away to look out of the garden window instead. No one had to tell her that Lily lying there in a pool of blood was bad, she got that. She could hear sirens in the distance so Drake must have called the police. She wondered where he was. Usually he had his coffee and toast here in the dining room, the coffee was on the sideboard but he wasn't in his chair. Grace leaned to the side to see if he was under the table. He wasn't. She didn't want to step further into the room in case she disturbed a clue.
I don't know about this. D'you think Drake did it? Is he dead too? Who are these people? Stay tuned, maybe tonight's writing will give us a clue. I'm as befuddled by this stuff as you most likely are. Well, now that I've munched away on cheese toast and a banana, I might consider taking a shower and putting on real clothes. I might even go outside today.