Severe Weather Season Is Here, But Here Doesn't Exist And I Remain Directionally Challenged

 It's Severe Weather Season here in Northeast Ohio (aka NEO). What? You didn't know that we had Severe Weather here? I'm going to give you a pass on that, especially if you watch the National News. According to national media outlets, weather doesn't really happen anywhere except New York and California. Oh, once in a while, Severe Weather occurs in The Panhandle and The Gulf Of Mexico, but neither of those places really interests Chief Meteorologists until there's a hurricane or a named tropical storm. At that point one of them has to Time It Out or Track It whether We The Viewers live anywhere near it or not. 

Most often, national weatherpersons stand right in front of Ohio and much of the Midwest as they gesticulate about Severe Weather in New York or California, making wide, sweeping motions about Storm Tracks and The Gulf Stream. Sometimes, Rick and I sigh loudly and say things like, "We don't live there!" and "What about the remaining two-thirds of the country?" More often, though, we talk about other stuff, like how weather forecasting has gotten worse the more technology they have, and how bad our basketball fantasy teams are this year, and how cute Theo is, and whether or not I got the mail. 

There's one habit that both national and local weather people have that really irritates me, and here it is:

News Anchor:  Chief Meterologist Rayne Shein is here to tell us about the Severe Weather alerts raising concerns in some major areas and to time it all out for us. Rayne?

Weather Person:  Thanks, Telly. We've got a major front setting up along the I95 corridor that will bring heavy downpours in several metro areas. Out west, look for damaging winds causing problems for those along the 101. 

Here at home, our meteorologists/weather forecasters say things like:  "This storm is setting up right along I271." Or, "Those of you living east of 77 should prep those snowblowers," or "The line of tornadic activity is mainly south of Route 80." 

THAT KIND OF TALK IS NOT HELPFUL TO ME AT ALL AND I BET I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE!

First of all, I have no way of knowing--nor do I care--where the I95 corridor is, even though they talk about it constantly like I should. Please do not Feel The Need to inform me because--and I cannot stress this strongly enough--I DO NOT CARE. I feel like the only people who know Routes, Interstates, and Roads like this are people as old as my mother, who used to be able to tell you extemporaneously exactly how to get every single place in the country she has ever been, using all the exact route numbers and cardinal directions. It was uncanny. She still may be able to do it; I refuse to ask her. 

Secondly, I could not tell you immediately, unless I am in my house, which direction is north, south, east, or west. Okay, I could tell you if I was at the lakehouse. Or at my childhood home. Or in my car, which has a dashboard compass, but I would be cheating. If someone gives me directions and tells me to go east on such-and-such a road, I glaze over. Means nothing. Tell me left or right. What am I, an original Native American describing territory? A clipper ship captain using the North Star to chart his course? Speak in concrete terms to me that mean something tangible. You have a map right there; point to it. "If you live in the Avon-Avon Lake area, blah blah blah"; "counties below this imaginary line (or left or right of it), blah blah blah." I can even accept north, south, east, west if you refer to the map, but don't point to a plain old map and start rattling off a bunch of highways as if I'm a Greyhound bus driver. In New York or California. Because, honestly. People live elsewhere, too. That's just fact.

If you are having Severe Weather where you live, irrespective of which Interstate you are near, I hope you get through it with no damage and no floody basement, which I can now be assured of, thanks to a huge cash outlay and several days of people digging and working at my home. Let's not talk anymore about that. 

Instead, talk to me of Stupid Weather Irritations and BiCoastal Weather Biases in Comments. 

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Cloudy, With A Chance Of Cats And Self-Checkout (We're #4/5!)

 

Today it's Novembering all over the place outside and I'm feeling chilly and a little bit fussy. It's grey, windy, we had a little rain, and even though the thermometer jumped up to 55 at about 3:00, it feels much colder. My head is threatening to start something with me, so I'm hydrating and preparing to take a migraine pill if necessary.

I already went to the grocery store this morning, where I noted with dismay that they installed brand new Self Checkout stations. One of the many reasons I love my odd little grocery store is that there were no Self Checkouts. All purchases were scanned and totalled by friendly (and sometimes quirky) cashiers, many of whom I've gotten to know pretty well. The chances of me using Self Checkout there are slim:  too many items in my weekly shop, and I'd miss talking with Sunshine and the other cashiers.

When I got home, the little black cat was curled up under our Japanese maple again. We have a lot of strays in our neighborhood, especially at this time of year, and for some reason, they love our back yard. And they're all gorgeous cats, too--certainly worthy of being someone's pampered pet. This one is a longhaired cat, black with coppery colour hair underneath and beautiful amber eyes. When our porch furniture was out, it often slept curled up on a cushion.

So sweet; it fits just right.

I spend a lot of time worrying about this cat, but I cannot begin taking care of it. I have two cats, and they are The Last Cats Forever. I have sworn A Sacred Oath to myself and Rick. And all dark-coloured clothing and all the stuff in my house that is continually covered in cat hair. Besides, it may very well be that it is already Someone Else's Cat, but they allow it to run amok. I wish they wouldn't; I feed birds in my yard, and this cat cannot be depended upon to only menace chipmunks.

Anyway.

It is not a hospitable day for me or for little black stray cats that I have named Nairobi in my head. 

Is it Novembering where you are? Do you have stray cats in your neighborhood? Don't you think stores should give you a percentage off your groceries for using Self Checkout?

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In Which I Give March The Boot And Discuss Its Fallout

March is blustering off, and I say Good Riddance. You were a bit of a bitch, March, and I didn't appreciate it. At all. About the best thing I can say for you is You Were Not February. Now get moving and don't even think about giving April any advice.

Over the weekend, we had two inches of heavy, wet snow dumped on us very unceremoniously. It was not the Dept.'s fault; we had our snow shovels prominently displayed next to the door as custom demands in NEO until mid-April at least. We know how this works. No, Dear Readers, I blame these people:

Taken on March 24th

Do you see the dead, deflated Christmas Thing there flanked by blooming daffodils? On March 24th? That is, right there, the reason we got hit with shitful snow last weekend--Climatological Confusion caused by Seasonal Dissonance. These individuals have a lot to answer for. A. Lot.

Because of that lousy snow, I forced myself to take the whole day Saturday (after shovelling) and complete some projects. One of those was The Dreaded Cat Brushing. The cats have become so belligerent about it that I now shut myself and one of them at a time in the small hallway. All the doors to the rooms are also shut. I sit on the floor and rotate like a child on a Sit 'n' Spin, wielding a brush, taking swipes as a cat deigns to pass. During a break in the action, I paused to take a photo of my new shoes--bought at Target on clearance for only nine bucks:

Remember when vegan leather was just vinyl?

I sent it to Jared and Sam, bragging about my bargain.

 

Me:  These are my 9$ shoes!

Jared: What a bargain!

Sam:  Why are you on the floor?

Now that I look at the picture, my ankles look terrible and hairy. They are not, honest. Just in need of lotion.

Finally, one last photo. March has been cruel, and my dear BFF Leanne in Maryland knows it. She decided to send me my birthday present very early, and I am so glad she did. My tears were happy and grateful ones when I opened it. It's a day late for Tiny Needle Tuesday, but she made me this beautiful sampler. We share its sentiment so very, very deeply:

Sorry it's skewed. It's so hard to photograph glass in any light.

It's not March's fault that my friends live so far away, but it did nothing to help it, either. So, screw you, March. Hit the road. You were even devastating for my fantasy basketball team (SIX players on the Injured Reserved at once! Steph Curry out. Damontas Sabonis out for five games in a row. I can't even go on.) 

Join me in saying So Long to March. Let's have High Hopes for April. Certainly more Christmas decorations will be gone...won't they? (Tell me what I want to hear in Comments.)

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All About Me(me): The Spring Fever Edition

 

NEO is enjoying some very Un-Marchlike weather, and I'm revelling in Early Spring. Each day of my walk brings new Joys:  tufts of bright purple and yellow crocuses; clutches of sturdy golden mini daffodils; a sudden burst of a flowering tree; lawns transform into emerald carpets; brilliant blue skies highlight the red, burgeoning buds of the silver maple trees that line the streets of the neighborhood. I am impatient for my patio and porch furniture, even though I know the odds are stacked against me; we are likely still to get snow in April or even May.

All of this is to say that I am outdoors and not indoors, and not given to much discipline as far as writing here. So, I'm taking advantage of a series of questions (I'll customize them a bit) that appeared over at Ally's place not too long ago. It's Old School Blogging, and it's easy fun. Here we go.

1.  What's something you're looking forward to doing once you get your vaccine or things open up after the pandemic is over?

I'm vaxxed and hit my efficacy date. I'm still leery of going out to dinner, but we're looking forward to going to our favourite restaurant and plan to do it more often. We miss it! I'm really looking forward to not having to mask all the time, mainly because it irritates me when people wear them incorrectly and stresses me out.

2.  What simple thing made you happy recently?

Oh, so many! I am easily made happy, really. My parsley wintered over and is ready for cutting. Likewise, my chives. And so did my celery, which I started from the bottom of a grocery store bunch!

3.  What was your favourite subject and worst subject in school?

Advanced Writing and all math. 

4.  Which of your blogposts is your favourite?

This is impossible because my posts are like my children. But I will give you a few from my Archives that I love:  Personal Jesus, Flamingos: They Don't Teach You This In Teachers' College, Watching And Thinking Of Blueberries. The last one is the first of what became a five-part series. I love how the series developed, and I hope you read all five parts. Just search the title in my blog's little search box.

5.  Coffee or Tea? Beer or Wine? Hard stuff?

Decaf coffee (half and half and real sugar), but some mornings I drink tea. The tea is herbal only, and cannot be lemon. Hot tea with lemon was the drink I was given when I was sick, which was all the time when I was little, so I associate that with illness. I cannot drink beer, nor abide its smell. I drink both red and white wine--also rosé. I don't drink spirits much anymore, but sometimes a martini is a necessity--up, slightly dirty, bleu cheese olives. 

6.  What movie, if you happen upon it while channel surfing, will you always stop and watch?

The Birdcage, Napoleon Dynamite, Caddyshack.

7.  When shoe shopping, what's your biggest problem?

My left foot is almost an entire half-size smaller than my right.

8.  Ice cream cone or cupcake?

This is a no-brainer for me. I hate cupcakes. They are almost always dry and they are almost always a disappointment. The flavour might say "peach daquiri," but it will taste nothing at all like that. I will take the ice cream cone every time. Unless it is mint chocolate chip, then forget it. I'll go find a place to buy peanut M&Ms.

9.  What have you learned about yourself during this pandemic?

That I'm calmer and less prone to panic than I thought I was. That I can adapt and roll with things better than I imagined. And that I'm daily grateful that I am retired and not trying to teach during this time. Bless the teachers; I think of them every single day.

10.  Does your family think you're the eccentric one?

Oh, I'm sure they do about some things. I know they think I'm the curmudgeon because I don't participate fully in every single family function. That stuff wears me out. I just made up my mind a long time ago that, in some cases, like kid parties, I'm simply Not Doing That Stuff. I also do not eat meals outdoors, or go camping, or care to know all the extended relationships in the family intimately, which also makes me sort of the Oddity. I'm generally okay with that.

That wraps it up. I look forward to your Comments, as usual. And I hope Spring has found your neighborhood, too. 

I'm Finally Thawed Out, So Let's Catch Up

 

Oh, hello there.

Thanks for waiting. It would seem I was semi-hibernating, waiting for the March Thaw. It has arrived, and gloriously so, here in NEO. We even hit 70 degrees and full-on sunshine one day. Every single mound of snow has melted, and on my now-daily-again walks, I have been greeted by eager crocuses. The red buds of the silver maples are swollen, and in some cases, have already burst into yellow fringe. In a single day, my daffodils and tulips suddenly emerged from the ground a full inch. March is a fickle lady, however; we may yet have more snow. My snow shovels will stay out of the garage and at my back door until April, lest I tempt the Fates.

So! Here's a little hodgepodge of what you missed in my world since I last checked in here.

1.  Walks:  It feels so liberating and rejuvenating to be back out on my daily walks. I was starting to get quite edgy and claustrophobic. After my two falls, I wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no ice to create a hazard. I will admit that the presence of some lingering Christmas decorations is irritating (Come on! It's March!), but I take deep breaths and make allowances due to the pandemic. After all, some people may need them for that last bit of--no! Screw that. Take them down.

2.  I Have A Graphic For That:

by Mike Luckovich

Let me just say that watching President Biden's speech last night reaffirmed for me the admiration  (and love) I have had for him lo, these many, many years. Could you feel the empathy? the sincerity? the authenticity? Did you feel--finally--that perhaps your government could possibly do the Right Thing by you and your family? As soon as the speech was over and we watched him walk away from the podium, Rick said, "Say it. Say it, Nance."  And I did. I said, "I love Joe Biden." Rick smiled and raised his wineglass. I am so grateful he is the President, and I cannot thank Georgia enough. 

My vaccine story is one of great fortune. Like so many Americans I jumped online and registered with several providers. Ohio's is a tiered system by age and special considerations, such as chronic illness and certain professions. I was in the third tier, which opened up on March 4. On that day, my brother Bob called me and told me he happened to be at a Sam's Club close by; they had 20 doses of the Johnson & Johnson COVID-19 vaccination, and he had signed Rick and me up, along with himself and his girlfriend and two of his friends. Our appointments were three days later, that Sunday morning. I couldn't believe our luck! The pharmacy called the next day to confirm and get information, and we got our vaccines Sunday morning without incident. To say I'm grateful is an understatement.

3. The Un-Dinner:  Rick and I have embraced what we call The Snack Board for weekend dinners. Neither of us has been very good about food lately, feeling bored and not having much of a taste for anything. On the weekend we like to keep things casual and simple, so we've defaulted to assembling trays of fruit, veg, cheese, crackers, leftover tenderloin slices, braunschweiger (aka goose liver), olives, or anything we find hanging about in the fridge. Sometimes I make some dip, like spinach dip, or sometimes I warm a little brie with fig jam. We grab some wine, and that is dinner. Other times, I toss together some sauteed onions, black beans, and refried beans, then pour some enchilada sauce over it. I top it with some shredded sharp cheese, then put it under the broiler for a bit. We dig into that with tortilla chips, and that's dinner.  Sometimes, after I've planned, prepped, and cooked a meal, the last thing I feel like doing is eating it. This feels more like grazing to me.

What's been happening with you? Are you vaxxed yet? Are your Christmas decorations down? Do you love President Biden's compassion and policy? Do you cook on the weekends? More importantly, did you miss me? Give me the real deal in Comments.

Time For A Catch-Up

 

Greetings from NEO, where we are currently cloudy, cold, and now experiencing that less than delightful weather occurence known as The Wintry Mix. It is raining, freezing-raining, and big globs of snow are plopping down as well. My front porch railing is full of fluffy sparrows huddling against the wet and chill. I'm not giving them much sympathy; they have turned up their beaks at the shredded wheat remnants I scattered for them yesterday. 

As a sort of harbinger of this weather, I was visited by a strange vertigo yesterday. For most of the day, any time I walked or looked upward, I immediately got dizzy and could not get my balance. It was accompanied by heavy pressure in my head and ears. It was a shame since the weather was terrific for a walk:  almost no wind at all; bits of sunshine here and there; temperatures in the upper forties, so no need for my heated coat. Needless to say, I didn't attempt it.

This weather today is suited for Domestic Goddessing, so I've been doing laundry, brushing the uncooperative cats, and general "redding", as my grandmother and mother would say. (Redding Up is one of those mysterious terms Grandma used often, and its provenance is murky. We always chalked it up to Pennsylvania Dutch, but apparently its use is relatively wider spread than that. ) I'll finish up with this post, then likely knit some more on my mitred square blanket, which I've pulled out yet again. 

I'm trying to stay away from The News in general, as are many of you, I know. It's exhausting and ugly and dismaying. It gives me zero satisfaction to think/say I Told You So about any of it. So I move on.

Mikey asked me to share a few of the Good Things from my 2020 jar. And Julie wondered what kinds of things I wrote on my pieces of paper. If you'll indulge me, I'll list a few of them here.

1. So far, no snow in January, and temps are mostly in the 40s--even a 50 & a 60!

2. 60 degrees on January 11! I opened up the whole house and aired out!

3. Jared got a promotion and a new job title! So proud of him!

4. Had a fun evening at Sam & Emily's: wine, pizza, wings. Z was super well-behaved & cuddly.

5. Z is doing really well at Sam's and meeting new people.

6. Found really cute shoes for 5$--regularly 40$!

7. Great weather at the lake for Sept. Nice long visit w/family.

8.  Got catered food for the family birthday. No stress! Great decision.

9.  Avos on sale! Decaf on sale! Got the last bottles of Frei Bros. Zinfandel and Insurrection on sale! Happy Day!

10.  Found out that we have not dipped into our savings or retirement at all during Rick's recovery time off. Yay!

And you know what? I'm glad I saved 2020's Good Things. Reading through them again made me smile. It makes me think that if I can look back at 2020 and smile, 2021 has that very same potential. I hope you're hanging in there with me.  Good Things come to those (of us) who wait.

Have a happy weekend. It's not long now.

TGIF: The Pandemic, Political, Procrastinating, Polar Edition

It felt so strange to be away from writing every day! I think I'm having a sort of Withdrawal. In order to combat that, I thought I'd pop in for a quick post, a little TGIF nattering.

T:  Time.  As in, I am wasting a lot of it lately. My mornings especially have become like slowly spreading puddles of molasses as one hour flows into the next, with me in my robe and jammies, comfortably cozied on the couch or in my big chair. I sip my coffee (sometimes flavoured with various spices I toss in), read my paper and blogs, and lately, shop for Christmas presents online. Each hour, I say, "Eight o' clock is my Go Time," then "Nine o' clock is my Go Time," then "Ten o'clock is my Go Time," and on and on. Today, it seems as if Noon is my Go Time. Sigh.

G: Gobsmacked. Here is a picture of me on Wednesday.

You likely did not know of it because I do not live in New York City or Chicago or Miami or Los Angeles (the only cities in the United States, according to Major News Outlets), but we here in NEO had a massive winter storm. In its wake we were left with 14.5 inches of snow. That is OVER A FOOT OF SNOW for those of you scoring at home. It started as rain, which meant lots of slush and ice first. It was heavy and wet snow. I could not even shovel, which I usually love to do. It took Rick two and a half hours to snowblow our driveway and clear the bottom detritus left by the snowplow. And all of it will still be here until July, probably.

I:  Irritated. I had to go to the grocery store yesterday. I had not been shopping since before Thanksgiving, and we were out of some key items. Unfortunately, it was busy, as it often is on the third of every month. This meant I was confronted with an unusually high number of Idiots who: wear their masks UNDER their nose; pull their masks down to read labels; pull their masks down to talk to someone RIGHT NEXT TO THEM; hover right behind or next to me rather than say, "Excuse me" or wait their turn. In addition, as I was helping to bag my groceries, the cashier suddenly said to me, "Ma'am, where does your order end?" I was confused and asked her to repeat herself. "Which items are yours?" she asked. I looked at the end of the belt and saw that some pushy woman had already begun loading her stuff on the belt, INCLUDING HER DIRTY PERSONAL BAGS, WHICH HAD FLOPPED ONTO SOME OF MY GROCERIES. Let's just say that I restrained myself as much as I could, but let her know I did not appreciate her rudeness, breach of the rules, and lack of respect for my health and safety.

F:  Forward.  As in Looking Forward and Moving Forward. I may have mentioned that I keep a Countdown To America on my whiteboard. It is the number of days left until the Inauguration of President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. (When the pandemic lockdown began in our state, I used the whiteboard to record a happy thing each day. I called it "Today's Yay".) 

I'm trying hard to look Forward to Christmas, but I'm just Not Feelin' It. I feel happy picking out presents for my grandchildren and children, but the prospect of putting up our tree right now simply feels like Work. I hope I get there; I truly do. 

Happy Friday to all of you. I missed you! Talk to me in Comments.

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Don't Ever Let Anyone Tell You That Old Gas Stations Or Spelling Cannot Be Romantic

Scene opens on Rick and Nance driving home. It is blistering hot, and they are tired. Nance, perhaps unwisely, tries to lighten things up when they stop at a traffic light and, on the near corner, is the gas station you see above.

Nance:  (very serious) Rick. You must never, ever stop at that gas station.

Rick:  (tiredly) What? Oh god. That place. It's terrible. The pumps are all--

Nance:  I'm not talking about that.

Rick:  (looks at the gas station for several moments; the light changes; they drive on) Well, what then?

Nance: It's just not safe. There are (adds a meaningful pause, then says the rest in a stentorian voice) Icy Conditions. Even now, at the height of the Dog Days Of Summer, there could be sleety puddles or--

Rick:  (a little exasperated)  Geeze, Nance! And here I am, looking for misspelled words or an out-of-place apostrophe!

Nance:  I could not love you any more than I do right at this minute. You know me so well.

Rick:  (big sigh)  Yes, I do.

End Scene.

I'm In A Mood: The Good, The Bad, And The Blues

Today finds me restless and a little bit fussy. I might have to go to Target just to feel smug about all the Back-to-School stuff on display.

But then I'd see all the Halloween candy and Christmas decorations and get snarky and irritated, so forget it.

Here are

Some Things I'm Cranky About

1. I'm sick of air conditioning.
2. I'm tired of figuring out dinner.
3. Cat Hair--holy effing crap.
4. No good tomatoes anyplace.
5. republicans.

You all get it, right? This summer has been a nightmare of heat and humidity, and while we're all Thankful for our AC, what wouldn't we give to shut it off and have open windows? For once? It's a goddam Hostage Crisis here at the Dept. My brain is like oatmeal from being entombed in here--cat hair covered oatmeal. Thanks to Number 5, my complaints are ridiculous, I know.

Yet, there is Gladness, too. Here are

Some Things I'm Happy About

1. I'm growing lovely basil in the herb garden.
2. We had a terrific trip up to Niagara-on-the-Lake last month.
3. Our wine cellar is restocked (and then some).
4. I'm reading like a maniac.
5. And doing crosswords in ink.

Last summer, my herb garden suffered from whitefly and some mystery ailment that spotted the basil leaves and left holes all over them. This year, better plants and the high heat/humidity are a boon to my pesto production. For those of you interested in the book "Before We Were Yours", I enjoyed it a great deal. It's a novel based upon true events. I disliked the alternating narrators/time frames construct, but it built suspense (there is a bit of the mystery element in here, too). I do recommend it. (As I do the wine from the Niagara-on-the-Lake and Twenty Valley/Bench regions.)

Oh, I would be remiss if I did not mention

This Thing I'm Sad About

Toni Morrison, who was born and raised in the same town I was, died this week. To say she was a brilliant writer is to damn with faint praise. I was lucky enough to meet her many, many years ago when I was a student teacher. She came to her alma mater, Lorain High School, for a special assembly, and thoughtful people there arranged for me to say hello. I remain in awe of her talent and her knowledge of writing. She was a writer's writer; her books are art. They make her immortal.

Now you...
Is summertime losing its charm for you? Share some Goods, Bads, and Blues of your own. Or, as always, just chat about these in Comments.


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The Cheap Therapy Of Snow Shovelling

Many of us are locked in the latest Polar Vortex--or one of them, now that there are actually three daughter vortices--and the extreme cold and waves of snow are forcing us to stay indoors, avoiding much travel. I'm also playing Nurse to Rick, who had spinal surgery on 18 January. He's a Very Good Patient, but until he is allowed to bend, twist, lift, or basically do Normal Life Things again completely, I am pretty much Everything Person. (Assisted very ably now and again by Sam, who stops by and is On Call, should we need anything, like the Good Boy he is. Jared, who lives farther away, is the Backup.)

I just came in from finishing up the latest round of snow shovelling, which is my best source of real physical activity these days. I have to say that I am always surprised and gratified at just how much any outdoor exercise improves my overall mood and sense of wellbeing almost automatically.

And I especially do like shovelling snow, oddly enough, and this comes from a longtime Hater Of Winter. Maybe it's because it gives me power over two things I so dislike, Winter and Being Cold. These things often hold sway over me, both physically and emotionally. But when I go outside and shovel, it's like I'm bossing them around; I'm refusing to succumb to Winter and the Cold.

I also think a great deal of it is that I can see steady progress as I work. The shovel leaves clear swaths of driveway and sidewalk. It's obvious where I've been and how much I have yet to do. There's also a definite end, an absolute finish to the work. When the driveway and sidewalk are clear, I'm done!  I can put away my shovel and go in.  In my career as a teacher, that wasn't the case. Even when I was done teaching a particular novel or unit and gave the final test, I still had stragglers--kids who were absent and had to make up assignments, quizzes, projects, and tests. They had deadlines, hypothetically, but you'd be surprised at how much leeway there was, especially if parents got involved.  I was forever hauling out folders of answer keys, makeup versions of tests, moving backwards into my gradebook, trying always in vain to get everyone (for once) at the same starting/ending point. I even had kids trying to make stuff up after the final grades were in and the school year had ended! Trust me, even when the Fat Lady sang, it was never really over.

The rewards of snow shovelling are so tangible. A clear driveway, obviously; a job done; that feeling of accomplishment as I look down that stretch of clear concrete; stepping into the house and feeling the warmth envelop me and see it steam up my sunglasses; the satisfaction of shedding each layer of coat, mittens, headband, boots; and finally, sitting down with the contentment of a job well done and done all by myself.

I hate winter with a Passion, believe me. Actually, more accurately, I hate Snow with a passion. I could live with Winter were it not for Snow. I never find it pretty, ever. It's dangerous at its worst and an inconvenience at its best. But I try to make the best of it.

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Settle In With Some Fries And Let's Ketch...Er, Catch Up

It would seem I'm a Terrible Virtual Friend and Correspondent. So many days have drifted by and here we are with nothing more wonderful than a Catch-Up Post from me.

Get it?  Catch Up--Ketchup?

Oh well...I tried.

Spring Has Sprung! As I tap away on my keyboard, it is a Blissfully Sunny 75 degrees outdoors. My windows are open, I feel uplifted, and I'm even barefoot right now. My walk was sprightly and pleasant. Crocuses are smiling at the sun, buds are on trees, and the guy down the street was out mowing his lawn. As I leaned over our neighbor's fence to give treats to their dogs (The Boys, as I call them), I took note of their forsythia just beginning to show bright yellow blossoms. My chives are up and ready to be snipped for baked potatoes tonight, and my oregano and tarragon are starting to come on. And, looking closely, I spot a fine sprinkling of dill which has nudged up through the mulch. Hooray!

I Am The Champion! After a grueling season rife with injuries to my marquee players, my perseverance paid off and I beat Sam in the Championship Round of our NBA Fantasy League. I had an impressive record of 18-3 with an 11-game win streak. And I was the only woman in the 10-team league. My knowledge of the NBA is bordering on the obsessive at this point. Once a student, always a student.

Undecorator Update. As of today, very few Christmas Decoration Sloths in my orbit have taken down their decorations, most egregious being the Nativity Wreck on my street and the mailbox wreath three blocks north. I've decided to Be Grateful that none of the offending decor is an inflatable.

Knitting Pathology. I started a mitred square blanket with the intention of A) using up a lot of yarn that was given to me and that I had bits and pieces of; B) focusing on Knitting As Therapy, and; C) having an ongoing small and easy project that wouldn't give me fits and didn't have a date certain for necessary completion. It all sounds Just Perfect, right? Well, baloney to that.

First, I found little mini-skeins of very pretty yarn on sale that I thought, "Oh, that would be so lovely to fill in squares on the blanket project" so I bought a load of them. Then I knitted a couple of different projects that used bulkier yarn, and I really loved that, so when I found a bunch of it at a ridiculously low price, I bought that. And then I decided that I would set A Square A Day as a Knitting Assignment for myself, which is completely reasonable, and then every day I keep an eye on the clock, wondering when I'm going to have some unbroken time to sit down and knit my square. All of which is Completely Counter to what my Original Intentions were. I swear, I am a Horrible Project most of the time.

Looking Forward. Last Saturday, our mail was exciting! In it was an invitation to a release party being thrown by our favourite winemaker in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario. We were verbally invited last October, but hadn't given it much thought again until the invitation showed up. Luckily, we were able to book a room at our usual inn, and we can't wait to go and taste the new wines before they are released to the general public. We've developed some very nice relationships with so many of the wineries and winemakers there that every time we open a bottle, it's like reliving a memory.

I do so hope that Spring has shown up where you are.  We here in NEO will be back to the 40s and low 50s in just a couple of days, but this gift of Fleeting Spring has been a much-needed tonic.  And that is, after all, what Spring is all about:  rejuvenation, reward, and renewal.  I'm storing this up until Spring comes again To Stay.


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Whoever Said Money Can't Buy Happiness Probably Didn't Feed His Pets Blue Buffalo And Have S.A.D.

Let me warn you now: my brain has turned to Polar Mush, and I take no responsibility for the coherence of this post. Yesterday, I literally Gave Up at 3:30 PM when I realized that my furnace, even after running continually, still had not attained its Goal Temperature. Which meant that I was not going to attain mine, either. I hurriedly (and shivering-ly) finished prepping dinner, made stuff for Rick's lunches for the remainder of the week, and then zoomed into the bedroom where I put on my fleece jammies with the feet attached. This roused the attention of both cats, whose bliss was complete once they saw me grab my grandmother's flannel-backed comforter and hit the couch with my pillow and remote.

When I Give Up, I Mean Business.

I'm tired of Winter. I'm sick of being trapped inside by single-digit wind chills and icy walkways. Snow is not pretty if it's been sitting out there for weeks making everything so much more difficult and being tracked inside making things wet. (I don't think it's ever, ever "pretty.") The glare off that stuff is impressive when the sun shines; I don't need to put any lights on in the house all day long. It's hell when I have a headache.

I know: bitch, bitch, bitch. And I was going to behave myself and count my Blessings forever. I still do, but there's no halo on my head or wings hiding under my sweater. This isn't the Dept. of Pollyanna.

But here's a Happiness! And like many True Happinesses, it caught me completely by surprise and came in an unassuming, ordinary conveyance.

Rick came home from work and retrieved the mail from the porch. Sometimes I dread this--particularly when I'm crabby or have just cleaned up the living room from all detritus--because he will often toss any and all junk mail addressed to me on my lap, even though he knows it belongs in the recycle bin. The rest of it goes onto the coffee table, waiting.  It just makes more work for me, and I don't even bother to open it. Or, he'll toss financial statements with my name on them to me, again knowing that he is the one who deals with them, not me.

But I digress.

Rick got the mail and tossed me an envelope. I rolled my eyes and then looked at the return address. It was from Blue Buffalo Litigation, Settlement Department. "Oh, hey!" I said. "I forgot about joining this Blue Buffalo pet food class action lawsuit. Geeze, it was such a long time ago. It was something about...I don't even remember. I read about it online and filed online, too." As I was talking, I was opening the envelope and taking out a check.

And then my eyes popped out of my head, fell on the carpet, became covered with cat hair, and Rick had to go rinse them off before he could stick them back into my face, where my mouth was hanging open like a drawbridge welcoming the procession of the Knights Of The Roundtable returning from a quest.

Because the check was for $108.69.

I got OVER ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS OF FREE MONEY IN THE MAIL. From a class action lawsuit. It's incredible.

I've joined lots of class action lawsuits that I've been eligible for in the past, and the most I've gotten has been maybe fifteen bucks. I could not get over it.  Almost as good as seeing a patch of grass in my yard...someday.

Warmed me right up.

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A New Year's Story (Somewhere, Charles Dickens Is Smiling)

Last Thursday, after grocery shopping with a lighter heart since Things Are Back To Normal, I was steering my Prius back home, barely grimacing at That Horrid Taco's Sign. It was so cold, but at least it was sunny, and I had a car full of groceries, good news from the doctor the day before, and dinner already planned in my head. It was such a Good Day!

I almost didn't see the man standing on the street corner at the busy three-way stop. He was muffled in a scarf and hat, and he was wearing a brown canvas coat that didn't look very warm. As I came up to the intersection, he turned around, and I saw he was holding a sign:
 PLEASE HELP
 HOMELESS AND HUNGRY.

The snow around the sidewalks where he was standing was piled up about fourteen inches, and in the extreme cold, had turned to ice. There were deep frozen ruts about a foot into the street, making his chosen spot a precarious one. It was also not a very smart one. Traffic coming from one direction had no stop at all, and in order for him to reach any car that did manage to stop and block this very busy intersection, he had to navigate terrible terrain. Had he merely moved to a small parking lot across from the Taco's sign fifty feet away, he'd have had a much easier time of it.

Traffic nudged me, and I had to move along. But instead of turning left at the light a block ahead, I turned right, circled back, and came around again. I was lucky--traffic had slowed, and I could stay in my lane to call him over. He was jumping up and down a bit in his tennis shoes, trying to get warm. I honked my horn a little over the noise of a loud truck idling nearby to get his attention. He turned around, and I leaned over in the seat toward my open passenger's side window.

He carefully stepped toward my car, picking his path through the icy mounds and slippery ruts. I wasn't sure if I should look at him: would it embarrass him? I glanced at him briefly and glimpsed some of the tiredest eyes I think I have ever seen. I could see that he was young, and I felt a surge of pity. "Here," I said, as I offered him a ten, "I--"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, ma'am, and God Bless! God Bless you, ma'am!" His blue eyes glistened and he had a West Virginian accent. His cheeks were red and patched with cold, white places.

I became almost overwhelmed with...what? Embarrassment? Shame? "I hope things turn around for you soon," I said. I checked my mirrors and drove on into traffic, headed home, thinking about my December worries and how they stacked up--or, more accurately, didn't--to this man's.

To many, many people's.

When the Universe strives so mightily to Teach Me A Lesson, it is important that I not miss the opportunity to Learn It. This young man on the corner was sort of my New Year's Jacob Marley, but I won't need to be introduced to the rest of the cast.

Message Received.

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Free-For-All Friday: The Slightly Subdued, Post-Migraine Edition Celebrating Simple Joys Of The Week

Last night our Canadian Friends sent us a bigass cold front packing icy cold winds and the first sn*w of the season. (Thank you, but really, you shouldn't have.) I woke up at 3AM with a banger of a migraine and today am pretty worthless. As I cower from everything but Rest, Hydration, and Warmth, I feel compelled to satisfy my Writing Responsibilities. Here's a Quick Rundown of some Small Yet Satisfying Happinesses that lifted my spirits this week:

1. Carly Simon On iTunes. I grew up listening to the music of my older sister Patti, who is seven years my senior. She was my idol, my role model, and my mentor in so many areas of Life. We shared the finished attic bedroom with my younger sister Susan for years and years, so I grew up listening to whatever music Patti did. This week, I downloaded two Carly Simon albums from iTunes, using free money from my many survey credits. They're in heavy rotation now with the two Beatles albums I downloaded last week (also for free!), and I'm really enjoying this musical trip in the wayback machine.

2. Fall Wardrobe. Cuddly sweaters, leggings, boots, long pants again--these are a few of my favourite things. I refreshed my fall/winter wardrobe with a few new pieces from TJ Maxx, but most of my clothes are in good shape and are basics that I can wear a long time without looking dated.

3. Soups And Slow Cooks/Roasts. I'm finally feeling like cooking and being creative in my kitchen again, and it's a pleasure to do it when it's not so hot out and I have more of an appetite. I made a really tasty (and easy) soup last night that Rick thoroughly enjoyed, and I plan on making many more. Sam finished the small leftover bit for his lunch today. I actually had a pretty good Cooking Week, for a change, taking advantage of my crockpot and the oven (since we've had such cool weather), and it's starting to feel like I'm getting back to my old self a little bit.

4. Democrats! Thank you, Virginia and New Jersey. Thank you so much.  Thank you for repudiating the Politics Of Hate And Ignorance.  Thank you to the strong, capable women who decided to run for office and make a difference right at the source.  And a special Thank You to Ashley Bennett, who served up one hell of a dinner in New Jersey.

I await your Comments on my Simple Joys and stand ready to Celebrate (albeit gently) Yours.

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We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming To Bring You This Severe (St. Patsy) Weather Alert...Whether You Need It Or Not

Ever since I was a little girl, my mother has been an alarmist about The Weather. As soon as skies would darken with storm clouds, she'd start scanning the horizon for low-lying, purple-black ones and a well-defined, heavy cloud deck. She'd peer out the windows, sometimes even venturing out on the porch to check the skies for lightning and to listen for that telltale "freight train sound" that foretold the one Terror Above All Else, a Tornado. In the days before The Weather Channel, the Internet, and even before network meteorologists broke into regular programming to report a simple summer storm, my mother's own Weather Alert System was often in overdrive as she looked for signs of Apocalyptic Weather Events.

Her precautions were many and legend, and we had no choice but to follow them: Don't talk on the phone during a storm! Don't take a bath when there's lightning! Get your hands out of the dishwater--there's lightning out! Turn off the TV; can't you see it's storming out? Every one of you kids get in here now; I saw lightning and it's coming this way! I don't like the look of those dark clouds over there; I think we'd better get down the basement. The weatherman says to take shelter; let's go down the basement right now.

And lest you all forget: I did not grow up in Oklahoma, Kansas, or Nebraska. I grew up in Northeastern Ohio, where, yes, there was actually a tornado in my hometown in 1924 (and, ironically, the Lorain Tornado was my father's nickname when he was a professional pitcher many years later), but my mother's fears still seem excessive. Especially since she grew up in Ohio, too.

Things have not changed much, as I found out not too long ago.

Scene opens on Rick and Nance at the lakehouse. They are chatting, finishing up dinner and talking about heading out for a boat ride. Nance's phone chimes, indicating a text message.

Nance: It's Mom. (reads aloud) Bad weather in your area. Watch out! Stay off the boat!!! That last sentence had three exclamation points. (looks outside at the calm lake and cloudless sky) Wow. I'm confused.

Rick: I'll put on the local radar channel. Maybe something is headed this way.

Nance: (types back) Really? It's nice here right now. Nothing threatening that I can see.

Rick: The radar is absolutely clear. I don't know where she's getting this. I'm confused.

Nance: Well, she says (reads aloud) They have tornado warnings for the Mansfield area and a tornado watch for Wayne and Ashland Counties, so you are in the area! Watch the sky! Stay off the boat!!!! That last one had FOUR exclamation points. And no emojis. She is really exercised about this. Let me bring up my app. (brings up weather app as Rick sits, exasperated, in front of television radar, still seeing nothing) I don't see it, either! What the heck is going on? This is like a Twilight Zone moment.

Rick: I'm getting the boat ready.

Nance: (types) Ok. We have the TV on and have not seen that. I just checked my iPad weather app and didn't see it there, either. You have the scoop, I guess. (to Rick) I can bring down my own wineglass and water bottle if you can carry the wine and your glass.

(Nance grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge; she checks to make sure the cats have water. She grabs her phone, wineglass, water, and heads down to the dock. Once on the boat, her phone chimes with a text message.)

Nance: (reads aloud) I am sorry. We were watching the soaps recorded from yesterday and that was the weather for yesterday! I just realized that!! Sorry!!!! (laughing hard) I'm not even going to tell you how many emojis and exclamation points are on all of that. Oh, brother. That's so great.

Rick: (laughs, shakes his head)  Doll. That may be her best one yet.

Nance: Wait. One more message. (reads aloud) Senior moment!!

Finis.

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W Is For What I'm...

Working On. As I have said so many times before, I see myself as being on a Journey Of Continuous Self-Improvement. To that end I am always striving to better my character in many Arenas. Currently, I am Working On most Strenuously and to some Success: graciously accepting Compliments, never saying Never, defaulting to Kindness, being Quieter and Listening. For some of you, these things may seem quite Simple and Natural, and you may be saying, "I don't get it." Trust me, neither do I to a large extent, but that's why I have to Work At Them.

Weeping About. For some reason lately, I have become quite sentimental/hormonal and teary. This is extremely unusual for me and very unsettling. I find myself thinking of people no longer in my life and whom I miss terribly. In a few cases, I'm sure it's due to a lack of true closure; in others, the finality of death. Also bringing me to tears is the sight of the small Syrian boy from Aleppo, the victim of airstrikes. Even now, having to search for the image has brought me to tears yet again. One more--have you ever heard the song Cecilia and the Satellite by Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness? I love it, and yep, it's making me tear up, too. Sigh. When (and Why) did I get to be such a crybaby?

Wishing For. While I am everso grateful for airconditioning, I am heartily sick of it this summer. We have had to have ours On more than Off, and I crave some fresh air and more moderate temperatures with low humidity. How on earth do any of my friends in the Delta states or places where 90+ with high humidity as the norm survive? NEO is also in a Moderate Drought, so while our air feels like we are walking through a bowl of soup, our yards are crisp and hard and brown. I know, California--Old News to you--but here, we're crabby and outraged. And the Death Toll in my landscaping continues: two cedars, one Japanese maple, one lilac, one viburnum...one more and this will be another thing I'm Weeping About.

Wild About. As many of you might recall, we here at the Dept. are Cord Cutters, and have eschewed cable television for lo these many years now. Very few network shows are Destination Television for us, but we are crazy about Life In Pieces, which we find funny, smart, and quirky in just the right doses. We continue to be avid viewers of Orange Is The New Black and House Of Cards on the Netflix (thank you, Jared). I continue to mourn the absence of Hugh Laurie In Anything, and wish that House was on in perpetuity, no matter how awful it got. Isn't it a shame he isn't Doing Something, and Immediately? (And hasn't Modern Family gotten...really terrible?)

Wearing. No more high heels. Lots of easy pullover dresses. Camisoles forever, especially with breezy, loose, gauzy tops. My fleece blanket every evening on the couch, thanks to airconditioning. My hair long, past my shoulders. Makeup every single day, even if I stay at home. Perfectly arched eyebrows, waxed myself, thank you very much. No perfume. As much navy blue as I can find (which is damn little).

Well, that about Wraps It Up. Please share your W's in Comments.

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Surviving Childhood, Off The Top Of My Head

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Rick and I were out driving one late afternoon, and I was taking some time to enjoy the last of the Fall Foliage. Ohio is having a gorgeous Autumn this year, the finale being a particularly vivid display from the red maples, orange sweet gums, and some rich chestnut and mahogany oaks. Even the rather pedestrian yellow leaves appear more golden than usual. And before this spate of summery November temperatures, October ended with some chilly days, but the colours made it tolerable, even for me.

Anyway, as we were detoured through the neighborhoods of a little town, I was shocked to see a couple of children out playing in fifty-degree weather wearing what I thought was inadequate outerwear. "Is that girl barefoot?" I asked, my voice rising higher on each word as I stared out the car window, incredulous and horrified. "And where is her jacket? Better still, where is her mother? And neither one of those girls has on a hat or a headscarf or anything."

Rick turned to look at the two girls--ages probably seven and ten--playing on the sidewalk. One was attempting to ride a skateboard; the other was sitting on a step near the sidewalk talking to her. Both, to me, looked cold. The skateboarder had on a teeshirt and appeared barefoot; the older girl on the step at least had on long sleeves, but her face looked pink to me, and her arms were held close to her, hands dug into pockets.

"No, she's not barefoot. She has on pink slip-on shoes. They're fine. No one is cold but you, Nance. Pretty much ever." He made the right-hand turn away from the girls and we continued on our way.

There was no use arguing. He was right. Even during menopause, looking forward to Hot Flashes for their warmth (which never came), I was always cold when everyone else was warm. Even though I've put on some weight and am no longer brittle and teeny-tiny, I'm almost always cold. And trust me, no one is more annoyed by it than I am.

Beyond that, though, is the now Archaic idea of bundling up your children to go outside, or at the very least, covering their heads and ears. Let me tell you, this is one child who Never, Ever went outside in temperatures under seventy degrees Fahrenheit without a sweatshirt, jacket, or sweater, and The Headscarf. Oh My God. Patsy June was a firm believer in The Headscarf, especially when it came to me, though for the life of me, I cannot tell you why. In spite of The Headscarf (also known as The Babushka), which I was forced to wear, I had, in my childhood, approximately eleventy thousand ear infections. And this number could definitely be on the low side. And was I allowed to wear The Headscarf in The Cute Way, i.e. tied behind my head? Oh, ha ha. It is to laugh. NO! It had to be tied firmly and chokingly in the front, right in front of my throat.

"I bet you looked cute," approximately No One is saying right now. And they would be correct. Imagine a short, chubby dark-haired girl in braids with fat cheeks, thick bangs, and...wait for it!...as of fourth grade, cat-eye glasses, sporting a headscarf to boot. Here is a rough illustration for you of what I looked like for most of my childhood while playing outdoors:

And here is a Photographic Approximation of how I felt I looked as a child, playing outdoors:

(I know it's the queen, but keep the royal thing out of it.)

How on earth did I ever, ever make it to Adulthood?

I did, dear Readers; I did. And it has been an Adulthood singularly absent of headscarves.


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Today's Top Ten List: Summer Is Overrated (With A Guest Poster)

Today's Top Ten List will be a Double-Teamed effort. Jared will be assisting me, just like he has in past List Posts here at the Dept. and just like he did back in the Olde Days of our co-authored blog Stuff On Our List. That's another wonderful part of my Ten Years Of Blogging.

Jared's entries will be items 1 through 5, and I'll round out the remainder of The List.  He can have the intro, too.

Summer is fine. It is not great, AMAZING, or perfect. It is just…fine. There are great things about it, sure. The Lake, no snow, and the sun is out longer. So that’s good. But there are plenty of things people love about summer that I just don’t get. Let’s take a look at

10 Things About Summer That Are Overrated

1. Patios
2. Heat
3. Camping
4. Baseball
5. Fireworks
6. Cookouts
7. The Beach
8. Sandals
9. Hamburgers & Hotdogs
10. Pasta Salad

Jared:
1. I like to sit outdoors from time to time with a glass of wine and a Lady Friend and chat and be impressed with ourselves and our conversation. But where I live, just west of Cleveland, there is an enormous patio culture. I do NOT want to eat out there, I do NOT want to sit there and get sweaty during a slightly (read: incredibly) hungover brunch. Sounds miserable. Dinner on a patio? Pass. Why am I going to eat a meal outdoors during the time of day with the least breeze? Absurd. Last summer, a friend called me and said “Let’s find somewhere we can eat, have some beers, and watch the game on a patio.” This is a thing he really thought I would do. I am not friends with this person any longer. MY favorite patio for a beer is the bar that I go to called Patio. There is literally NO PATIO. No patio is the perfect patio for me.

2. “Yeah. But it’s a dry heat.” This is a thing that people will say. It usually follows something like, “It's going to be 95 degrees out there today”, and is supposed to make me feel better about it being so goddam hot. Know where else is a dry heat? My oven. I’m not hanging out in there, either. Hot is hot. I don’t care how dry it is. Too. Damn. Hot. If it was 58 degrees with a light breeze every day for the rest of my life, I would be jacked.

3. It is literally all of the worst things about the last two items combined. Only, as a special treat, you get to sleep in a giant Sweat Bag. On the ground. Preposterous. Also, there’s a fire. It is sweltering out, and one of the actual solutions to make things better is a fire.

4. I went to a baseball game with one of my very best friends. I remember 0 of it. None. I do remember at one point, I stood in line for 18 minutes for a hot dog. I remember that. It sucked. I also know that when I came back with our franks, I had literally missed NO ACTUAL BASEBALL! None. They threw to first twice, intentionally walked a guy, then changed pitchers. Actual times in 18 minutes a ball was thrown in an area where it could be hit: NONE TIMES. NOT ONE.

5. For starters, this is an outdoor activity, at night, in the hottest part of the year. No breeze, buggy, traffic nightmare, crowded. Oh, but hey, you guys! You DO get to sit on the ground on a hot blanket. Seems like the solution for most summer stuff is to simply add the hottest, most uncomfortable thing you can find to the equation. Camping? Fire! Dinner? An open grill flame! Fireworks? Blanket! Even the homeless think it's absurd to use a blanket outdoors for any reason during the summer.

Nance:
6. Longtime Readers, you all know my aversion to eating outdoors where hot food cannot stay hot, cold food cannot stay cold, and I am locked in a battle with bugs for my food and with the wind for my napkin, my tableware, and my hair to stay out of my mouth and eyes. Why? Why set Civilization back so decidedly? And the Picnic Table is the worst device ever. So ungraceful. Everything about a Cookout/Barbecue is catastrophically terrible.

7. The beach always sounds so relaxing and toasty warm, what with the waves and the sand and the sun. Which is, ironically, also precisely why the beach sucks. Sand gets everywhere and you will take it home with you and it will proceed to follow you wherever you go for the rest of your life. Inside and out. The waves, if they are in the ocean, will blast the sand at you and give you raw spots on your skin that will irritate you for days. Lakes are better, unless it is Erie, and let me tell you--there are bacteria warnings posted on the beaches more often than not. And at the beach, there is not a lot of shade to escape to, which means sunblock, and that means the sand will stick to you and do we really need to review that?

8. Feet--adult feet--are disgusting. Yes, that means yours, too. Most people's feet should not be on display. Yet Summer gives everyone the Go Ahead with eleventy billion styles of sandals, and many of them sadly awful, some of them made with seatbelt material, and most of them merely flipflops. Ugh. I feel sick.

9./10. If it were not Summertime, how many of you would settle for grey, dry, overgrilled hamburgers and sweaty hotdogs as your entree? And, in some cases, wait for them? In a line? And do you truly enjoy yet another pile of cold rotini soaking in Italian dressing? I'm over it. All of it.

Aside from these things, Summer is still terrific, as every single Teacher knows. But that's the Easy List, isn't it? How has Summer disappointed you? What would you add or take away from our List?

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Adjusting The Waistband On My Cranky Pants

Yeah, yeah, I'm still here, someplace amid a mound of fleece blankets, fleece-lined spandex exercise pants, longsleeved tee, and fleece hooded sweatshirt. Welcome to Ohio, where we like to celebrate the coming of June by having temperatures in the forties overnight and the fifties during the day.

I wish I were kidding.

And let's make sure we add wind and rain in there. So that I can also run my furnace to dispel the damp.

Holy crap. I am hereby lodging a Formal Complaint. Can someone out there see that it gets to the Proper Authorities?

Yikes. Someone is, I fear, a Little Bit Crabby. And a little Snarked Out. Not quite Centered or At One With Her Zen. I'm too cheap to pay for therapy, and even though I could use my Dr. On Demand app and get a free introductory session, I'd rather use all of you. Will you be my therapist and listen to my Issues? Then you can counsel me in Comments, and we can all do likewise for you. Here we go.

::Where Is The Real News?:: What passes for News these days is no less than a farce. It's as if People magazine has taken over journalism. I can feel/hear Walter Cronkite and Edward R. Murrow spinning in their graves. Celebrity births, cutesy dog videos, and marginal events like charity drives and soldier homecomings are common stories on the national news (I'm looking at you, NBC Nightly News). Is there really nothing else occurring of note in the world, even in the realms of science, politics, government, technology, or finance?

::Is This Really Style?:: I sat (somewhat) stoically and quietly by while the Eighties neon colours came back into fashion, and I shut up a lot when everyone made a big deal out of the rope wedge, peasant blouses, and all the other crap that I used to wear back in the seventies as being so fresh and wonderful and Right Now On Trend. But there is No Way that I am sitting still for H&M selling this for $39.95 and even outright calling it The Mom Jean. It's a travesty. Worse yet is this assertion that the once-reviled, touristy and androgynous fanny pack is now de rigeur for all fashion mavens. Listen; the idea of being able to zip around on my errands without my purse hanging off my arm sounds like heaven to me, but if that comes at the expense of having a pelvis goiter, then no, No Thank You. I am old enough to remember the Playtex Girdle commercials and their admonishments about Midriff Bulge. I work hard not to have any Unsightly Bulges. The last thing I want is a Bulge that I paid for. (Oh, and for the record, I am still not wearing these. Certainly you can; I'm not judging.)

::Is This Real Life?:: In the next several months, it is expected that Donald "The Donald" Trump will announce his bid for the republican nomination for President. Of the United States. Where I live. Rather than be gleeful and entertained at this prospect, I am instead irked and irritated. Honestly, I'm not sure why. Probably because I know he's doing it just as an act of shameless self-promotion, and I'm annoyed that he's able to make such a mockery of a serious office to aggrandize and publicize himself and his empire. He's such a full-scale goofball that his own party will roll its eyes and sigh a lot, but the media will give him a ton of coverage and that's going to be excruciating.

::Real Quick-like:: How much do I need to care about the following things? Right now, I don't care about them at all even though they seem to be Everywhere: Game of Thrones, McDonald's "new" menu, Pinterest (I still don't get it), Sepp Blatter, Kelly Ripa's cleanse, the crazy Tasman Peninsula Dusky Antechinus, Windows 10, and Rand Paul. I will say that I find the name Sepp Blatter to be absolutely terrific. It belongs in the novel Cold Comfort Farm or perhaps something by Flannery O'Connor. Imagine:

"This here guy'll hep ya," said the cop, and he spat dryly into the street. He was indicating a slight, overall-wearing man who was ambling somewhat crookedly around the corner. "Name's Sepp Blatter. Owns the farm up the road. Has all kindsa equipment. He can getcha out." The officer raised his voice and called sharply, "Sepp! C'mon over here'n talk to this guy! He needs a tow." He pitched his voice lower and leaned in a little. "Now here's a little advice, 'n it's free. Sepp don't care much about money, but he ain't stupid neither. Them Blatters ain't livin' high up there, so make sure you offer him somethin' for his troubles. Do it up front, too." The officer winked broadly. "Get whatcha pay for that way."

*****

My session is over; your turn in Comments.

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In Which We Celebrate, For Things Do Get Better

Oh Frabjous Day! Callooh! Callay! Today NEO is basking in the sunshiny Upper Forties and the huge icicles have departed my gutters (or eavestroughs, as some locals here still insist upon calling them). I have seen wee margins of grass here and there as the monoliths of snow pull away from the sidewalks and driveways heated from the sun. And, quite importantly, today I wore only my lined raincoat to the grocery store.

So many lovely, lovely things are making me happy right now, and it seems like So Very Long since something has, so I would like to share.

My Latest Happies

1. My hair
2. Our Canada jaunt
3. The weather
4. President Obama's "Bloody Sunday" speech
5. A license plate I saw

Let me just tell you about those, and then you can chat about your Latest Happies in Comments.

1. My Hair is a constant barometer of my wellbeing. Last year, I decided to join the Pixie Movement (albeit late) and I was alternately pleased and horrified. Very sensibly, my friend Shirley over at gfeeasily said, "I think people are either Long Hair People or Short Hair People and just aren't happy being the other one." Well, my friends, I am a Long Hair Person. Period. My hair is finally grown out to a point where it is manageable and I no longer cry every other day because I Just Don't Know What To Do With It Anymore. The next time I say One Word about getting a haircut, I want every single person in the world to smack me hard. Thank you in advance.

2. Rick and I both knew we needed a change of scenery and that, despite the weather being identical to ours, the wine and comforts of Niagara-on-the-Lake would help us tremendously. So true. We had a lovely time this past weekend and brought home just under four cases, one being a gorgeous buttery Chardonnay. Our innkeepers took us as their guests to a winery party, and we had a very good time with tank tastings and nibblies. We even visited the newest winery, just opened, and because it is such a slow time, got a private tour. While in Canada, we politely asked that they keep their weather to themselves, and they said they would try.

3. What a lift to have temperatures higher than the single digits and teens! We are seeing the forties and maybe even a fifty or two in the next week or so. And sun...its effect on my mood and energy is incalculable. I know from living in NEO my whole life that this is merely a break in the action: our winter is far from over. But if we could get a full thaw and have all the snow gone, that would be terrific. I'm anxious to get back down to the lake and see how things are doing. It cannot be lake season soon enough for me.

4. I was in Canada for President Obama's delivery of his speech at the Edmund Pettus bridge in Selma. When I got home, I had the full text in my inbox, and I read it. I did not get far before my eyes were full of tears. I am always happy when words can move me, and I am always happy when our President makes reference to great writers and great women. I burst into tears especially when he called on the great Walt Whitman, the chronicler of the American Journey, and paraphrased a line that I so often spoke in awe in my own classroom. "I am large, I contain multitudes." Politics aside, it is a beautiful speech. Please click here and read it in full. (Note: Time magazine's transcript is NOT the full transcript, their claim to the contrary.)

5. On our way home yesterday we drove through Cleveland, and I caught a glimpse of a license plate framed by rainbow-coloured peace signs. It read GETZBTR. All I could see of its male driver was a pale hand and sunglasses as we raced past the frozen lake headed into downtown. I hope that the license plate meant GETS BETTER, and that it was part of the campaign IT GETS BETTER, which was started to give hope to LGBT youth. Vanity plates cost extra and have to be renewed every year, so it would be a personal expense if he were spreading that message. I choose to think that he was. Cleveland hosted the Gay Games last year, and they were a rousing success. Ohio is still a DOMA state, and the governor and legislature are republicans. One look at Ohio's district map shows you how horribly gerrymandered it is, but attitudes are changing. The DOMA was voted by the citizenry, true, but so much outside money influenced it that it was criminal. But that license plate...my heart lightened instantly.

What has lightened your heart lately? Tell us and make us all smile.

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