After whining on yesterday's blog post about how it isn't Spring here I feel compelled to show you what I saw in front of the house when I went out to go to work yesterday. Sprouts. Daffodil and crocus sprouts poking their tiny noses above the barely thawed ground to help me drag myself through the end of the winter. Thank. God. I feel so much better now. Some of those daffodils are the same ones I planted when we built this house in 1978 right before DS was born. Daffodils are forever, evidently.
I got my sewing machine packed up and all of the sewing doodads I think I might need put in a bag with the quilt sandwich, then I carried it all up to pile by the door. As soon as I hit "publish" on this I'll be doing a bit of packing, take a shower, and then drive off to meet an old high school chum for lunch prior to zooming away up the Door peninsula for a couple nights of R&R. Just me. There's plenty of food here for Durwood and he's perfectly able to go fetch more if he needs it (it isn't supposed to be too cold) so I'm outta here. I think I'm going to sneak into a food store and buy a bag of clementines to take along. It's clementine season but the price hasn't dropped much and Mr. Careful-With-Money frowns when I lay hands on a bag of them in the store. I want some so I'm going to get me some. I've got my allowance and I can spend it however I want to and if I want expensive citrus fruits I'm getting them. So there. And I'm not getting them at Aldi either, I'm going to a real store for 'em.
There was a nice, fat, fluffy squirrel having suet for breakfast this morning. Can you imagine hanging onto a wire grid and eating fat and cracked corn in the freezing cold? Yeah, me neither but it sure looks like it's enjoying it, plus look at the melting going out out there. Woohoo!
March 21--India, Coat of Mail and Plate. Jeremiah Morgan wore that sweater like it was armor instead of gray wool and leather. His gram had made it for him to wear in his freshman year and it still fit him three years later. Jeremiah was small and awkward which made him the butt of most of the pranks. School hallways were torture. Some days he felt like a pinball ricocheting off the metal lockers. Good thing he was fast, he could dodge and weave, avoiding a lot of the shoves and feet thrust out to trip him. He was in his chain mail sweater with his books tucked under his arm when Travis Kapla slowed down as he passed to say, "Nice moves, Morgan." After that everyone who heard it treated him with a bit more respect.
A-a-a-a-and now I'm going to go pack. Seeyabye.