Snowing On Valentine's

We had snow overnight and more's on the way, in fact, it's snowing a bit right now.  D'you know what that means?  It means that the ice on our street now has a covering of nice slidey snow over it.  Improved and hidden treachery, that's what we've got out there for us unsuspecting, tottery old folks.  I want to go someplace.  I'm tired of happy vacationers coming in to buy masks, etc. for their imminent trip to (fill in the blank) where it's warm and sunny and the water's clear for diving in. Salty too.  I want to have sand in my... everywhere, and a rum drink at sundown, and a bit of sunburn to remind me I'm alive.

We did our Valentine's dinner last week at Prime Quarter so we just exchanged sappy cards this morning as I was getting up and Durwood was going back to bed for a nap.  See, he sleeps in 2 hour increments at night, up for 15-20 mins, and then sleeps another 2 hours.  He cut out green tea the other day to cut out caffeine but that didn't change anything.  He says he doesn't always have to whizz when he wakes up so that's not it; he thinks it's just habit.  One I'd break tout suite, let me tell you.

There's a knitting guild meeting tonight and I have to go for the board meeting at 5:30, even though I'm no longer on the board, because we're going over the new by-laws which I was on the board for all the discussions over the summer.  Unless of course the weather turns to crap and then I'm sticking right here.  But I do have my swatches knitted and blocked so I'm ready for the crocheted finishing program tonight.  Ooh, gotta get out a hook.


February 14--Mark Rothko, No. 13 (White, Red on Yellow).  Light streamed through the slats of the shutters making stripes on the far wall.  The white light came from the streetlight, white as snow, white as an angel's wings.  It was a white with no other colors, no hint of green or amber, just pure white light that shone with no heat.  The yellow came from the flasher at the intersection at Third and Main.  Last summer a storm had done some tree trimming in the neighborhood and it cleared a path for that yellow light to lance into the room.  The red was the hardest to ignore.  It pulsed like a police car bubble light from the sign in front of Happy Endings Chinese restaurant down the block.  That pulsing red light and the smell of too much chow mein drove Bill nuts.

Ha!  I almost gave up and closed my notebook but then I thought about it being light rather than paint and, poof!, writing came.  Hot diggity.  Happy Valentine's Day to all of you.  I love you... well, most of you... no, all of you... for today anyway.
--Barbara