Cold Crescent Moon

Cold, it's -2 out there, and I saw this crescent moon when I scampered out to make sure there was non-solid water in the birdbath (there wasn't).  Isn't it pretty?  There was the palest strip of yellowish pink in the east out there at 6:20 AM but the sky was a very clear blue.  I feel like I can really breathe when it's clear and sunny.

I got all my chores done yesterday.  Of course I decided that I'd work on chipping the packed snow off the driveway, so I went out every few hours to make a little progress.  The last time I went out I didn't change out of my tennis shoes and tracked snow and salt all over my nice, clean, just mopped kitchen floor.  Gah!  I don't need a kid, I'm my own kid tracking in crap just fine, thanks.  Good thing I keep the Swiffer handy.  That shoveling and scraping was hard on my back.  I don't often hurt myself when I work outside but something I did, or maybe ALL that I did, made my lower back complain about it all evening.  I figure that's why they invented Aleve and Icy Hot.  (oh mercy, I sound so old)

Tonight we're meeting friends, B&DF, at Prime Quarter to char a little cow.  I know there's a ribeye with my name on it.  I never clutter up my plate, palate, or tummy with a potato; I just have a decent size salad, a piece (or 2) of Texas toast, and meat.  Meat.  We rarely have beef (in fact, we need to have it more because we've got a beef buildup in the freezer) so this'll be a nice treat, plus it tastes so good because I never scrimp on the butter when I'm grilling it.  I figure if I'm going overboard I'm going all the way OVERBOARD.  *arms spread out and head thrown back*  I can hear my arteries hardening even as we speak.  I'll be good tomorrow.  Cross my heart.

February 6--Gaston Lachaise, Nude Woman with Upraised Arms.  So round, so firm, so fully packed.  (Where'd that come from?  Some cigarette ad when I was a kid.  Back when tobacco companies were allowed to advertise.)  The men working in the foundry were on alert.  They nudged each other and waggled their eyebrows.  Most of the art pieces they cast were small and not human.  They were sinuous creatures and powerful forms with hooves or teeth or claws.  This was different.  This was a woman.  A life-size one with womanly parts that a man could get a-hold of, not one of those modern women all made of angles and planes.  These were the blue-collar men of art who debated where to dissect a sculpture so as to cast its parts.  The effete artist might bring the design, the clay model, but theirs were the hands that brought the creation to life.

It's shower time.  Dressing time.  Breakfast time.  Maybe not in that order, but they'll all get done and I'll go to work like a good girl, knitting bag, iPod and Kindle in hand to keep the world safe from scuba diving--and to unpack, price, and shelve any boxes that come.  I know my place in the workaday world.  Adieu.
--Barbara