Cold, But Sunny

It's not quite as bitter cold today and it's supposed to rocket up to near 40 degrees by Friday. Of course there's a whole lot more winter to be had here halfway between the equator and the north pole. Did you know that? Just about 66 miles north of here is the 45th parallel so when I go diving or to The Clearing I move from the lower 3/4 of the globe to the upper 1/4. The idea intrigues me, every time. I love the idea of moving through such a major geographic feature, but then I've always been a geography nerd. That was my first "what should I be when I grow up," I wanted to be a cartographer. I don't know when that changed, I'm kind of sorry it did, but no use crying over spilt milk. If I'd been one I probably wouldn't have met Durwood, wouldn't have had DS & DD, and wouldn't have worked at the dive shop to meet all the quirky and interesting folks I have over the years. Not to mention not gone to The Clearing where I met even more quirky and interesting peoples, like Lala, JudyRedbird, and Roi. And there'd be no Skully or Cookie or Z-Dawg in my knitting life either. I'd probably have boring, upright, uptight family members, and friends who don't have street names and lead me into temptation in so many ways.

Would I have gotten to knit underwater in Bonaire? No!

Would I have found bagged and frozen poop or a severed deer leg when geocaching? Definitely not!

Would I have slept in a cliff-clinging, one room cabin that has no bathroom, forcing me to moon Escanaba--twice? No way, Jose!

In that case I'm glad I'm not a cartographer. Really glad because I love my life, my family, my job, and my friends (even though most of them are total whackjobs).

January 3--Jacometto, Alvise Contarini. His whole life since he was a little boy Al wanted to go to sea. He dreamed of walking up the gangplank with his white canvas sea bag over his shoulder and sailing off to explore foreign lands. His father had other plans for his second son. In Papa's mind, Al would go to the seminary and become Father Al. He'd quickly rise up in the ranks until he would be an archbishop or cardinal with the ear of the Pope. Papa also decided that Al would make a fortune by selling indulgences and by selling his Papal influence to politicians and businessmen. Al was a devout boy but he had no desire for the priesthood, heard no calling from on high. He wanted to sail away on a caravel and come home with a brown-skinned wife and a fortune in spices.

I foresee tumultuous years in Al's future, don't you? It's been quiet here so far today. Maybe nobody's thinking about going diving anytime soon. All I can think about is escaping to someplace warm for a week or month or so. Hasta la vista, babies! At least until tomorrow.

--Barbara