Geez...
How many times have I started to write something for this silly blog this week? Let me count the times... the ways....
The weather is really putting a crimp in things of a writing/typing variety. It’s hard to emote in ether when your fingers are not talking to each other and they definitely do not want to talk to the keyboard. In the last week the keyboard has come to reflect the outside temperature (currently 8 degree F - as in freezing - get it?). So has everything else in the house. All is freezing - or below. To quote a phrase... this is where the nose hairs meet the nostrils.
For the first time in several days we are seeing the sun! No longer veiled in sheets of gale-force blowing snow, the golden disc seems to hold out the hope, but certainly not the promise, of warmth. Unless you lie veryverystill in the sunpatch that comes in through the porch door. Here lies Dooley, who has more fur than any of the rest of us, hogging the meager gifts of this freezing but brilliantly sunny day. I should kick him <sigh>. Right.
Preachy is out on the lake, practicing for the Great Canadian Fish-a-Thon, which will commence after church next Sunday. More on this later, except to say that there was a planning session earlier this week. I’m not sure how much testosterone overload other women can take, but I absented myself when they started talking about strippers from Montreal. I just didn’t think it was someplace I needed to be, yknow? The evening’s actual crisis was a group realization that the ice auger didn’t work and would have to be repaired before departure to the Fish-a-Thon <gasp!> Even I knew that...
I continue to struggle with the dreaded wedding conflict. The nephew mentioned in my previous post is getting married on the same day in June my step-daughter graduates from high school 3500 miles away from my nephew and his bride. North Carolina/Washington, North Carolina/Washington? I had it all planned out until this... best laid... whatever. The struggle, obviously, continues. I just have a hard time getting behind the idea that my demented brother will be the only representative of the maternal side of the family at this event. It could mean instantaneous divorce. No, I’m not kidding.
Someday I will work up the guts to write about my brother. Probably about the time I feel like I want to alienate all my known and unknown readers and shut down this thing for good. Or maybe not. I sense alot of internal pressure... ick.
Until then, cuddle up... stay warm.
