The Day Off I Needed

While the year's first snow here has been coming down, Mike, Crookshanks, and I have been nesting inside our little apartment. 'My first baked potato lunch in at least a year, a nap for Crookshanks nose-to-beak with her stuffed chick, chocolate chip cookies for me and Mike, a caramel-butterscotch candle ablaze, and new Christmas present books for me and Mike to begin reading from under blankets in our chairs soon.  January bliss! 

♥

December 7th's Book of Good Things

Yesterday's walk to work was surreally bright, the sky glowing a golden-white despite the many charcoal clouds in it.  I had forgotten my gloves as I walked out the door and soon had near-numb hands but was otherwise warm enough in my raincoat, while parents and children around me were emerging from cars bundled up in coats and hats, and a runner darted past me in just a t-shirt and shorts.  When there was a pause in traffic, all around me was hushed and stilled save for the leaves skittering down sidewalks and being whipped off the trees by the wind.  My umbrella stood up to the weather the entire walk, but I heard an embarrassed-sounding whoop behind me when another woman's began to turn inside-out in the wind just as we approached our building.  Yesterday's rain and wildness have moved on now, though, and a morning that began here in the low twenties will end with snow tonight only to disappear again this weekend with temperatures in the low sixties.  I give children at my workplace coloring pages depicting "Sesame Street's" Elmo making an igloo--I is for igloo!-- and Winnie the Pooh building a snowman and wonder if they even relate, the weather is so strange anymore and December is so rarely the way it was when I was their ages.  My work-schedule for today is an adjusted one that sees me starting four hours later than usual, so I've had precious time to catch up a bit with Mike before I leave for today's walk back to work.  The sun is shining.  I slept well.  My work-day is only eight hours.  I will treat myself to a slice of cheese pizza for lunch halfway-through it.  This news story keeps making me smile.  I am off tomorrow.  I feel I'm on an upswing.  'One day at a time, as ever, and today looks good. 

Late February Haiku

thousandth dim snow day,

ever-empty cat perch.

pink petals, come soon!

Placeholder

January Comforts

I have reached "that"point in January and am sure some afternoons spent tromping through the woods or some long walks in general would lift my spirits, and as soon as the sky stops spitting out rain and rain-that-isn't-sure-if-it-would-rather-turn-into-snow-yes-let's-be-snow-now-no-let's-turn-back-to-rain every day, life will feel a bit brighter.  We had a couple gorgeous days in the sixties last week, but I had hurt my back and didn't feel up to getting outside to enjoy them.  Ohhhhhhhhhhh BLEHHHHHHH, January 2017 is getting to me, but it is especially book-filled, and Stuffed has been making a nest of a throw pillow and sometimes an afghan on my lap every time I sit down to read lately. 

In addition to all the usual news articles, I've made my way through my probably-annual rereading of the Laura Ingalls Wilder series, have gotten a few chapters into The King's Grave:  The Discovery of Richard III's Lost Burial Place and the Clues It Holds by Philippa Langley, and am now beginning chapter forty-three of Stephen King's The Stand.  'A rather mixed bag the past few weeks, as my reading tends to be, and I'm enjoying it all--as  much as one can use that word for taking in some of the news (and some of The Stand, for that matter).  Winter after winter after winter--in any season, but ohhhhh, these winters, especially--the reading saves me.  And thank God for this floofy little cat on my lap while I do it. 

♥

The First Ten Days of the Year

The new year is beginning with a flurry of book-buying for my former elementary school.  I will have donated about six hundred books by the end of this month so am very much on-track with my goal of donating a thousand by my fortieth birthday in May.  "Did you know that all media's now half-off on Sundays?" the thrift shop cashier asked me last week as she rang up my stack of books.  I did not, and the new prices will make my goal even easier to reach this spring.  'Fifteen like-new hardcover books last week for practically nothing--like a wink from the universe.  ♥  I also did not know that Mary Poppins dolls existed--!--and lo and behold, this one, complete with carpetbag and umbrella, will soon be flying off to the school with the related books. 

Mom's January 4th birthday proved tricky to get a package out in time for since there was no mail here January 2nd for the New Year's postal holiday and I didn't want to mail it the Saturday before and have it--with cookies inside--sit in a post office or postal truck over the three-day weekend.  With a few little wrapped gifts nestling them inside the box, gluten-free nut roll cookies ended up being Mom's birthday treat this year.  I used a bag of Bob's Red Mill-brand gluten-free pie crust mix and was completely charmed by the packaging.  This would make a darling print.  And it's pink!  ♥

My original plan had been to make rugelach, but the dough was too sticky to roll properly and I hadn't remembered to leave myself enough of the flour for that purpose, so after a messy attempt at the rugelach, I ended up making a dozen nut roll cookies for Mom instead.  Had I put a bit more thought into my Plan B, I'd have made a tidier thumbprint cookie with the nut filling so they would have looked prettier.  Next time.  These turned out, though, with the nut-mixture mixed right into and around the dough, and they tasted good.  

The nut-mixture was about 7 oz. of walnut-meal, maybe 3/4 cup whole milk, a cup or so of sugar, an egg, and most of a stick of butter--cooked until boiling, then just kind of rolled into the pie crust-cookie dough.  Next time I make these, I'll add some of the walnut-meal to the flour so there will be more nut-flavor throughout. 

I baked them early in the morning on January 3rd--the day before Mom's birthday, so. . .cutting it close--practically ran to the post office with the package as soon as I'd finished wrapping it all, and was told that it likely wouldn't reach her until the day after her birthday.  Bah! to postal holidays!  And no, it did not arrive in my parents' morning mail delivery on Mom's birthday, which made me sad.  (She did not care--"Getting mail tomorrow will just extend my birthday, Vally!"--but I very much did.)  We talked just a few minutes that afternoon since she and Dad were on their way out dinner and a movie.  She called me before I left for work the next night to let me know that just as they'd been leaving for dinner, a postal van had pulled up to drop off her package--an unprecedented second mail delivery in a single day for them--so she had received it on her birthday, after all.  ♥  And yes, she loved the cookies.  :)

As the temperature outside has bounced from a painful 8° one day to now-raining-and-near-40° a few days later, I have mostly been a homebody, contentedly sorting books and puttering around the apartment, save for walks to and from work, the thrift shop, and the post office.  'A peaceful and most satisfying first ten days of the year. 

♥

Love Actually

The cemetery I walked in today is three-hundred acres, but I only managed two and a half miles before declaring that part of my walk done.  It was twenty-something degrees here this afternoon but felt much colder, and even with my coat's hood up most of the walk, I returned home with my hair half-pulled out of its top bun by the wind.  Tomorrow and Sunday will be much warmer--we're supposed to hit a downright balmy fifty-six degrees this weekend--so I'll enjoy longer walks then. 

The headstone above that memorializes "happy hours, days, weeks. . . ." with a loved one reminded me of the opening lines of Love Actually:

"Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow airport.   General opinion started to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that.  Seems to me that love is everywhere.  Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there.  Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.  When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate and revenge, they were all messages of love.  If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling, you'll find that love actually is all around." 

Yes, for final words in final phone calls and for remembrances in cemeteries, love is the word, as one is reminded while walking past monument-after-monument and stone-after-stone that pay tribute to the loving and the beloved.  We worry about so many petty things in this lifetime, we hold on to hurts too long, and we get so mired in the muck (and often a muck of our own making), it is good to remember what we will take with us--and leave behind us--when we go.  During my summer 2007 health scare, love was all I thought about while I thought I was dying.  I hoped my niece and nephew would somehow remember me enough when they were older to know that I had loved them, I wished my ex-boyfriend well and hoped he remembered that I loved him and that he held on to that and didn't beat himself up, I prayed that I'd been loving enough to my brothers and parents, I even thought of a couple people I hadn't even really liked all that much and I just wished them love.  Had I loved everyone enough, did they know how much I loved them, would the rest of their lives would be full of love?  I wanted so much love for everyone.  And if my own lifetime's worth of opportunities to give that love was over--no more conversations or cookies or letters or care packages--well, maybe I would still have ways to give love after I had passed?  I prayed so.  Love love, love.  I believed I was dying, and love was all I could think about.  That night's experiences have informed the way I've lived since, and I'm grateful. 

♥

Weekend Walks: 27 Pictures (or A Pig, a Snowman, a Shadow, Some Hearts. . . .)

That pig just spoke to me.  :)  Fourteen miles walked this weekend and so much beauty seen.  Sunsets this time of year are glorious.  Flowers are crisp and snow-capped and bent in the most striking postures.  Tree branches are black silhouettes against sun and sky.  Snow sparkles and icicles glow warm in the cold sunsets.  If fall walks are my favorites, winter walks are a close second.  While I was taking a picture outside  a local school Friday afternoon, a man sarcastically yelled across the street to me, "Nice weather for that, huh?!" and I called back, "It is, though!  It's so pretty!"  I couldn't help but laugh when he responded, "Yeah, if you're a polar bear!"  I like coming home to the warm apartment, yes, but truly, it is nice weather for this:  Walking with my camera forces me to focus on looking for the good and the beautiful, taking the time to look at--to really see--the good and beautiful, and saying thank You for the good and beautiful.  Anyone can see the beauty in spring or summer or autumn leaves, but to be able to enjoy the brilliance of winter is almost a skill that needs to be learned and relearned for most of us.  Walking in winter when--let's face it--I'd rather be curled up in a chair with a book stretches me in all senses of the word.  Ohh, this is just good for me, body and soul. 

The art on a local shop's side made me smile.  I'd walked past this flock of birds so many times before, but this weekend, against all the snow, it was such an appreciated burst of color.

This card was in a stationery store window.  I'll be going back to buy this one for my parents, who are suffering extreme cabin fever already this winter. 

Hearts appeared in the snow throughout the weekend.

The snowman below, with his eyes at his feet, made me laugh.  

The takeout bag below made me smile too, and its yellow face was a fun burst of color against the snow and pavement.  My personal walker-code dictates that if I take a picture of litter, I throw out the litter too, though, so this smiling face is now in a trash can. 

It was dark by the time I turned around and headed home this evening, and the streetlamps cast such a pretty light onto the sidewalks, as warm and soft as candle-glow. 

Enough light for even a somewhat murky shadow-picture, and I was soon setting my shoes onto newspaper to dry back inside the apartment.  Chili for supper and a night off-work tonight.  "Downton Abbey" tonight too, and a new book to begin.  And another walk tomorrow.  All kinds of winter bliss. 

♥