Limbo

It finally occurred to me this evening that I'm in limbo.  I've spent the last month with February 12 shining in the distance as the day I'd fly away to visit Aunt B.  Today's February 12 and I'm still here.  I meant to be flying but instead this is what I did today.  I let the snowblower drag me up and down the driveway.  Yippee.  It wasn't as snowy and windy as I thought it'd be but it's still snowing so maybe it just got spread out some.  I thought that the flight probably could have taken off safely but suspect that Chicago-O'Hare would have been a whole 'nother ball of wax so it's probably good that I stayed home.  For now.




This morning I was doing the crossword puzzle and thinking that I should have been doing it in the airport gate lounge when I came across the answer for 48 Across--limeade.  I should have been flying Florida-ward to a place where a cool glass of limeade would be just the thing, so I got up, got out the ReaLime, a bit of sugar and water, and a semi-appropriate container and made myself a glass to have with my lunch.  It was delicious.  It might even be my new favorite beverage.  Hot chocolate might have been more climatically appropriate but limeade was what I wanted so limeade was what I had.  Yum.



Once I got the snow blowed I went downstairs for my cutting board, the bolt of thrift store fabric I use to draw off pattern pieces, and some of that lingerie fabric I unearth a while back.  I drew the pattern pieces for the knit shirt pattern I haven't used yet, then I cut out a Dress no. 1 from the lingerie fabric.  See, one of the dresses I made last year, the gray linen one, clings irritatingly to whatever I wear under it, both cotton and lycra leggings, so I thought if I made up a "slip" dress of this lingerie fabric and sew it in like a lining maybe it wouldn't be so clingy.  Since today and tomorrow feel like days spent in limbo, I thought it might be a good idea to cut this out and sew it up tomorrow.  Does that make sense?

12 February--Tropical Obsession.

     Like a centurion guarding a Roman temple, the Tiger Grouper hovered over the orange barrel sponge. Many years had passed since the big fish had been afraid of anything. It hung there motionless barely sparing a glance for lesser fish as they passed. It fixed Santiago with a cold eye when he swam down from the surface, speargun cocked and ready. The man hovered for a moment looking back and then, acknowledging the seniority of the large grouper, flicked a ragged fin and swam off looking for smaller prey.

I feel like I should be sitting on the couch with my purse on my lap and my suitcase at my side like my house has turned into some sort of waiting room.  I'm stuck for what to do.  Isn't that crazy?  At least I've got food to eat on these two days-out-of-time.  Weirdo.  Me, not you.
--Barbara