Ice

It was raining when I opened the curtains this morning.  Raining.  On February 4.  In Green Bay, WI.  Sheesh.  It got up to 40 degrees today but it's supposed to be only 14 degrees tomorrow and snow on Wednesday.  Double-sheesh.

When I went out to get the newspaper (that wasn't there anyway; it'll probably come with tomorrow's edition) I noticed that the surface of the driveway was suspiciously glittery.  Ice is what happens when the ground is frozen and the air warms up and then it rains.  The driveway had turned into a bobsled run.  Arrrgh.  Discretion being the better part of valor, I texted the organizer of the monthly 1965 St. Agnes grads lunch that I was staying home and by then he'd emailed the class that it was too icy and lunch was cancelled.  That meant that I didn't spend the rest of the day imagining them all having cheeseburgers, fries, and laughs while I sat at home being cautious.



Instead of tossing something I moved the side chair from the guest room into the crib-vacated corner of my bedroom, not so I'd have a place to drape clothing (although there's quite a bit of draping of grandkid blankets and my sweater) but so that corner of the room isn't so empty.  I'll find something to fill it with.  Today wasn't a great day, mood-wise.  Three straight days of fog and drear sent my mood right into the cellar.

I tried to bolster my mood by going downstairs and sewing the last of the flannel dresses I cut out last fall.  I'm glad to have it finished but it was so cold down there I kept having to stop sewing to stick my hands in my pockets to warm up my fingers.  I'm blaming the dampness from the rain.  Now I get to spend some time cutting out more things to sew, things that I already have fabric for.




I knitted on the sock after supper but still need a half-inch before time to put in the waste yarn for the eventual heel.  I lost a stitch somewhere a few rounds back but once I checked to make sure I hadn't dropped a stitch (and I'd better not find one running up the leg later; I suspect that I knitted 2 stitches together accidentally) I just made a stitch and kept on.  Look, LB, I made it to the blues!

4 February--Tropical Obsession. 

Prehistoric marks on stone are the only evidence of life in this desolate place. Once a long time ago, a wading bird stalked across this muddy flat and left its fleur-de-lis of a footprint behind. Sun baked the mud dry, the climate changed, and the cycle began. Water receded, leaving the land high and dry. No rain came to wash the print away, no playful wave erased it. The mud hardened, compressed, and kept the faint record of the bird's passing on its face until one day it could no longer be lost. The mud had turned to stone and left the anonymous footprint of a long-dead bird to tantalize us, to lead us on to what is to be.

I hope like heck that I can go out tomorrow.  It's my day to work the weight machines at the Y and I need to get out of here for my own good.  Besides I ate the last little dish of ice cream after supper and I can NOT be out of ice cream.  Cold, I can deal with.  Snow, I can deal with.  Ice, I stay home.  It's just that simple.
--Barbara