Saturday Smile: Bunny Tracks

On my birthday, Bill and I had breakfast with Jll, Dagny, and Maggie Faith. Alastair and Addie had long since left for school, since they are on their bus by 7 o’clock every morning. We sat down at the counter, and I casually told Jll that Bill and I would be unable to attend the music concert that Dagny and Maggie’s school was holding the next night at Thomas Jefferson High School because of a scheduling conflict. I didn’t think much about it until I looked to my left, and saw that Maggie was silently crying, literally with tears rolling down her cheeks. Her parents were also going to be unable to attend, and she was so sad that she wasn’t going to have a big audience to see her performance. Jll told us that the dress rehearsal was that night, and we all agreed that we would attend the dress rehearsal. That cheered her up a bit.

The performance was not simply a Christmas musical concert; it was sort of a musical play with a holiday theme. The story took place in a magical forest, and featured a variety of forest creatures, not the least of which were the rabbits. And Magnolia was a rabbit extraordinaire…..

maggie-musical-performance

None of us are quite certain as to why her bunny ears were not sticking straight up as all of the other rabbits’ ears were, but it likely has to do with the fact that Maggie Faith does now and will evermore STAND OUT.

The dress rehearsal, while truly a rehearsal, was tons of fun, and Maggie’s rabbit scene was not surprisingly the best of the show. As for Dagny, she chose to act as stage crew. No need for the spotlight for Dagny Tess.

Have a good weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: The Last Days of Night

imgresWhen I was young, there was a section of the children’s area of our public library that featured a series of biographies ranging from Eleanor Roosevelt to Florence Nightingale to Booker T. Washington. I read them all.

And so I remember that I read all about how Thomas Edison invented the light bulb. That’s it. Nothing murky.  He was responsible for those light bulbs that we use every day of our life to light up our world.

But was it really that simple? Of course not; nothing ever is. What is unarguably true is that he was the first person to hold a patent for the direct charge light bulb.

The Last Days of Night, by Graham Moore, examines the invention of the light bulb, and the eventual replacement of gas lighting with electric lights in this entirely readable, eminently fascinating account of the legal battle waged between Edison and George Westinghouse, who had also invented a light bulb, but his used alternating current.

It’s hard to imagine that someone who cares about or understands science as little as I would enjoy this novel. Nevertheless, I loved this book. It will undoubtedly be among the top five books that I’ve read this year.

Not only could I not put it down, but I drove my husband (who studied engineering for a time in college) practically crazy with my unending did you knows.

Do you know the difference between direct current (DC) and alternating current (AC)? (He did.)

Did you know that they used alternating current (AC) the first time they used the electric chair, and it was a horrific and unimaginable failure? (He didn’t.)

Moore’s story begins in New York City in 1888. George Westinghouse hires a young, untested attorney named Paul Cravath to handle his literally billion-dollar case in which Thomas Edison is suing him over the simple question: who invented the light bulb.

Moore (who was the screenwriter for the wonderful movie The Imitation Game) uses real characters and real situations to tell an absolutely riveting story about the battle, which takes the young Cravath into the heights of society in New York City in the late 19th Century. His portrayals of the key figures – Edison, Westinghouse, Cravath, Nikola Tesla – paint a different picture from what I read in those little biographies as a child. They fought a seemingly unending battle over power – both electrical power and social power.

Don’t let the fact that this is a novel about the light bulb stop you from reading this book. It is an absolutely glorious story that involves corruption, romance, intrigue, and rollicking fun.

I have scarcely enjoyed a novel quite as much.

Here is link to the book.  

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Thursday Thoughts

Speed of Light
bill-and-google-home
If you read my blog, you probably remember that I told you about the “other woman” in Bill’s life – namely, Goggle Home. Thus far, she’s worked out fairly well. She’s not terribly cooperative about music yet; for example, she won’t play a particular song when requested. Instead, if you ask her to play Fight Song (as did Dagny on a recent morning), she will fix you up with what she calls a “Fight Song playlist,”which is a play list that includes many songs, but apparently doesn’t include Fight Song. She’s a bit contrary that way. But let me tell you about the funniest thing she has done thus far. Every morning when Bill comes downstairs, the first thing he does is say, “Hey Google, what’s my day like?” She then commences to say something like this: Good morning, William. The temperature in Denver right now is 26 degrees. The high today will be 48. You have an appointment with Joe Blow at 11:30. However, inexplicably, the other morning after he asked her that question, she did her spiel, but at the end of it, she added Your commute time this morning will be approximately 28 minutes. Hmmm. Now that’s interesting, because he is mostly retired, and even when he did work, for all of the years we’ve been married, and many years prior to that, he’s worked out of his house. Bill and I looked at each other, and I said, “I wonder where she thinks you work?” The next morning, he asked her the daily question, and she did her regular spiel. And this time at the end, she added Your commute time this morning will be approximately 18 minutes. Somehow his commute to wherever she thinks he works was 10 minutes shorter. So it got us to thinking….and led Bill to subsequently ask her this question: “Hey Google, where do I work?” She immediately responded, You work at 9109 E. Elmwood St. in Mesa, AZ. Bill did the math and figured out that to get from Denver to the job she thinks he has in AZ in 18 minutes, he must travel at a speed of somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 mph. As my sister Bec put it when I told her the story, “Apparently Bill is an astronaut.”

Boobly
My grandmother crocheted and knitted. All of her grandchildren were on the receiving end of all sorts of her handicrafts – afghans, bedsocks, vests, booties, sweaters, and so forth. One of the things she often made was stocking caps, and every single stocking cap she made had a pom-pom on the top. Without fail. Always, always the pom-pom. Except she never called it a pom-pom. She called it a boobly. As in what color boobly do you want on your stocking cap? So that is, of course, what all of her grandkids call, well, booblies. In fact, my brother pointed out during winter NFL football last year that all of the professional football players at a particularly cold game were wearing imgresstocking caps with booblies. “I wonder if Peyton Manning is comfortable wearing a stocking cap with a boobly?” I remember my brother asking me. I was channeling my grandmother yesterday afternoon as I was finishing up some of my Christmas gifts, two of which involve a boobly. I am not too proud to admit that I had a HELL of a time making that boobly. First I didn’t use enough yarn. Then I had trouble tying the yarn together by myself. Once I had my yarn cut and tied, the final step is to trim it up so that it looks full and perky. My friends, I had yarn EVERYWHERE. I don’t even want to think about how much yarn I inhaled. One boobly – ONE SINGLE BOOBLY – took me something like an hour to make, and remake, and remake once again. As I finally tied the boobly on the last hat, I looked to the heavens and recalled that Grammie used to crank out these booblies like nobody’s business. One more thing to admire about the woman.

They Say It’s Your Birthday
Yesterday was my 63rd birthday, and I don’t know how in the hell THAT happened. But I am banking on the fact that you are only as old as you feel, and I feel pretty darn good. My birthday started with breakfast with Dagny and Magnolia and the celebration will conclude on Saturday when Court and the kids come for dinner and make me a birthday cake. Bill took me out for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, a neighborhood Italian restaurant called Farro’s. That restaurant has one of my favorite things to eat – a dish they call Seafood Farro, but which is basically cioppino.

seafood-farro

Oh, yum.  And it was as good last night as always. They offer a special deal where when it’s your birthday, you get the percentage that equals your age off of your meal. Smokin’ deal. I asked the server what was the largest percentage they’ve ever had to honor. She told me it was for a woman who was 99 years old.

Ciao.

The Ugly Side of Christmas

Ho, Ho, Ho, there’s really nothing better
Than a beautiful girl in an ugly Christmas sweater
Ho, Ho, Ho, and now I can’t forget her
That beautiful girl in an ugly Christmas sweater – Garth Brooks and John Michael Martin

Singer Andy Williams and his brothers proudly wear their Christmas sweaters. Admittedly, this was back in the 1960s.

Singer Andy Williams and his brothers proudly wear their Christmas sweaters back circa 1960.

For as long as I can recall – at least in my adult life — beginning on Thanksgiving Day and going on through Christmas Day, I have worn a Christmas sweater. There was a time when I owned so many Christmas sweaters that I could just about wear a different sweater to work every day during that period of time.

As you can imagine, in order to own that many sweaters, they can’t all be tastefully designed. In fact, you might be in the rather large camp that believes there is no such thing as a tasteful Christmas sweater. For much of my adult life, that didn’t matter, because the fact of the matter is that the gaudier they were, the more I liked them. I accented them with holiday-themed turtlenecks, Christmas socks, and Christmas earrings. It became, well, my thing. People would come to my office to see what sweater I was wearing that day. My sweaters ranged from fairly dressy all the way down to sweatshirts (those I saved for the weekends).

A lot of my Christmas sweaters disintegrated with age and had to be tossed away. The bells no longer tinkled when I walked and the Santa lost the cotton ball on the tip of his hat. After I retired, I will admit that I gave away some of the more garish styles to Goodwill, where I’m certain they were purchased and worn as jokes. After all, NOBODY would be seen seriously wearing such attire.

Still, in the boxes that I store under the bed in our guest room live a fair number of Christmas sweaters, and a relatively embarrassing number of them would be considered within most social strata to be eligible for Goodwill.

All of this is background for a story I have to tell you. Late morning on Sunday, my cell phone rang. I was alerted that it was a call from Addie. When I answered, she greeted me unnecessarily with, “Hi Nana. It’s Addie. I have a favor to ask you.”

Hmmmm.

She went on to tell me that later that evening, her youth group at her church was having their annual Christmas party, and the theme was – wait for it – UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS. There was, in fact, a contest for the ugliest sweater.

“Nana, do you have any sweaters that my friends and I could use for our party?” she asked me.

Oh. Do I ever.

You see, I’m not sensitive to the fact that my Christmas sweaters are ugly. I know now – have always known, in fact, that they are garish.

So a bit later, our doorbell rang, and there were Addie and some of her friends to take a gander at my sweater collection.

“Oh my,” they said in unity, and with great awe and, well, joy as they gazed at my sweater collection. So many from which to choose!

Perhaps unnecessarily, I will tell you that the sweaters worn by Addie, Alastair, and their friends were a hit at the Wellshire Presbyterian Youth Group’s Ugly Christmas Sweater Contest. In fact, one of the sweaters won the grand prize for the ugliest Christmas sweater, earning its wearer a $20 gift card and the pride of wearing the ugliest sweater……

Left to right -- Spencer, wearing the prize-winning sweater; Alastair Luci, Addie, and Mettie. Apparently, when it comes to Ugly Sweater Contests, all sweaters are gender-neutral.

Left to right — Spencer, wearing the prize-winning sweater; Alastair, Luci, Addie, and Mettie (who, by the way, is wearing someone else’s sweater; happily, I must not be the only one in possession of such items). Apparently, when it comes to Ugly Sweater Contests, all sweaters are gender-neutral.

I’m happy for him (though frankly, I think the sweater Addie wore should have taken the prize), and delighted that the kids had such a nice time. But now I need my sweaters back so that I can wear them once again!

Wonderful Life

As I have been madly crocheting this holiday season in preparation for gift-giving, I have watched all manner of Christmas movies. I have seen Miracle on 34th Street (the newer version), White Christmas (in which Rosemary Clooney makes being distraught an art form), Love, Actually (yes, yet again), A Christmas Story (which is now and will be forever more be my favorite Christmas movie), Holiday (in which Jack Black is an odd love interest for Kate Winslet), Last Holiday (there’s probably not another Christmas movie that leaves me feeling happier than this), and Holiday Inn (I could watch Fred Astaire’s Fourth of July solo dance a million times).

And Sunday, when I decided I couldn’t stomach watching the Broncos not have an offense any longer, I watched It’s a Wonderful Life. Shockingly, it was the first time I had ever seen this movie.

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Whaaaaaat?

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have seen bits and pieces of the movie throughout my life. Really, how could I not have ever seen the ending where Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed are embracing and all of the people are dumping cashola on the table to save his butt and the bell rings, indicating that Clarence had finally gotten his wings? I feel comfortable not having indicated SPOILER ALERT because I’m pretty sure I’m the only living person of reading age who hadn’t seen the movie.

But I had never sat down and watched the entire film from beginning to end. I had never, in fact, seen the beginning of the movie, which of course sets the stage for the whole point of the film – that George Bailey had wanted and planned on a much more exciting life than the one he ended up having. That’s pretty important context to have known about for the ending to make any sense. But Christmas movies really don’t need to make sense. Is there any universe in which Jack Black would be a love interest for Kate Winslet except in a Christmas movie?

However, it’s true that hardly anyone’s life turns out exactly as planned, mostly because as of yet, we aren’t able to see into the future. What’s that old Yiddish adage? Man plans and God laughs. Ain’t it the truth? It’s interesting to think about how I would have imagined my life in 50 years if asked to predict when I was 10 years old. I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that I would live in Denver, Colorado and have a second house in Mesa, Arizona. Since at that point I hadn’t been any further than Omaha, I undoubtedly wouldn’t have guessed that I would have been on two transatlantic cruises and seen such things as the Parthenon in Greece, the pyramids in Egypt, climbed to the top of St. Peter’s in Vatican City, and sat on the grass at the base of the Eiffel Tower.

In fact, I would have been expecting and frankly, wanting, a life just like the life of ol’ George Bailey.

We all get caught up in the preparations for Christmas. I have awakened at 3:45 a.m. on a couple of recent mornings unable to go back to sleep because I’m mentally counting the gifts I have purchased so that I don’t make that fateful mistake of having one more present for one grandchild than I have for the rest. Did I remember to set aside enough cookies to share with the neighbors who faithfully keep an eye on our house while we’re in AZ? Will Bill’s gift arrive in time?

STOP! It’s Advent. The time for quiet reflection and preparation, not for the gifts that we are going to give or receive, but for the birth of the one who is sent to save us. Advent gets lost in the sea of Christmas frenzy. Like George Bailey, we need to remember to be grateful for what we have and for those who make our lives special.

The one thing that all of those Christmas movies have in common is that life is full of surprises, and it’s not what happens to us, but who we share our lives with and how we accept our life as it has played out.

Bookshelves

I follow a number of bloggers, mostly general interest, some cooking blogs. Interestingly, I only follow one book blogger, and hers might have been the first blog I signed up to follow. I know almost nothing about the blogger, not even her real name.  She writes very little about her personal life. I think she lives in Australia, and I know she gravitates towards psychological thrillers.

And the last thing I know about her is that she must spend every waking moment of every single day with her nose in one of those thrillers. How do I know how much she reads? Because she writes a post almost every single day in which she reviews a book. I read a lot, but I couldn’t post a book review every day. Her taste in books is very different from mine, so there have only been a couple of occasions in which I have read a book based on her recommendation. Still, I’m impressed by the amount she reads.

But a recent post of hers struck home. Her posts rarely deviate from a book review, but on this occasion, she wrote about her love of book stores. Her first line, in fact, states that there is no place in which her hearts sings more than in a book store.

Book lovers will undoubtedly be able to identify with that feeling. I know I do.

When I still worked hard for a living, I often spent my lunch hour perusing the book stacks at Denver’s amazing locally-owned bookstore The Tattered Cover, which was near my office. They have a little lunch counter where you could buy a sandwich and an M&M cookie (one of my secret pleasures), and I could nibble my sandwich while looking at the newly published hardback books or books that were newly published as paperbacks. Often I would buy a paperback book that appealed to me, but more often than not, I would dig in my purse for my tablet and a pen, and write down the names of books that caught my eye so that I could look for them at the library.

I always anticipated that at some point, a Tattered Cover employee would to come over, grab my little tablet, tear out the sheet on which I’d written the book titles, and shred it into little tiny pieces, saying, “How on earth do you think we can continue to make a living if people like you don’t buy the books?”

It never happened.  But I really do wonder how book stores make a living these days where so many people – me included – read entirely using an e-reader. I haven’t read a book made out of paper in probably three years. Bill and I have a running joke. Whenever we see a person reading an actual book, we look at one another with obvious puzzlement in our eyes and say, “What is that weird-looking thing that person is holding?” We are hilarious.

I know that many bookstores have gotten into the business of selling e-books along with paper books. But I would bet that Amazon has cornered the market on e-books with their Kindle books. Heck, if I find a book I want, I can buy it by pressing a single button on my iPad, and within minutes, that book is in my library.

When I think about how Bill hauled the box of books in and out of our car trunk every time we would change locations when we were on our big European adventure, I cringe. God bless him. When we embarked on our journey, I promised him that I would read the book, and then leave it behind. Voila! We would end up with an empty box at the end of the trip! I did that occasionally, but more often I thought, “I might want to read that book again,” and back it would go into the box, along with the two or three other books that I bought at an American book store I stumbled upon in Rome or Barcelona or Paris. Again, God bless him; he never complained.

As time goes by, I am less inclined to keep all of the books that now take up a full wall of bookshelves in our bedroom, and a half of a wall of bookshelves in our family room. I rarely look at a single book, which have just become dust collectors. Still, all those years of collecting the entire Hercule Poirot series by Agatha Christie…..

book-shelf

By the way, I still enjoy going into book stores, because not many things can make me happier than seeing a display full of reading options. But I still bring along my tablet and pen. That book store employee is bound to strike at some point. Tick tock.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Saturday Smile: Peanuts and Cracker Jack Amidst the Holly

Last Sunday Bill and I attended church services at Wellshire Presbyterian Church, where Dave and Jll and the kids worship. The church was having what was basically a carol worship service, and Addie sang in the youth choir and Dagny and Maggie Faith sang in the children’s choir. The church was packed to the gills.

dagnymaggie-2016-2Each week the church allows children to pick up a worship bag in the back of church that contains crafts for them to work on rather than being bored and whispering loudly, “How much longer, Mom?” Dagny and Maggie Faith each had one of the bags, and because the church was so full, they sat next to the rest of the family on the steps leading to the altar. As we listened to the carols and heard the word of God as well as those of the pastor, the girls diligently worked on their religious-themed crafts. Dagny was working very hard on a white board she had pulled out of the bag. I envisioned that she was writing a prayer with the blue and red markers she was using. Or maybe drawing a picture of the Holy Family. Finally, she held up the white board so that we could see what she had drawn. In red and blue letters, and extravagantly decorated, she had written…..

GO CUBS!!!!

Dagny and most of the rest of the family attended a Cubs game in Chicago this summer, and proudly wore Cubs hats.

Dagny and much of the rest of the family attended a Cubs game in Chicago this summer, and proudly wore Cubs hats.

Let’s hope God is a Cubbies fan!

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: Belgravia

searchPeople who, like me, are still mourning the loss of our Sunday evenings with the Crawley family – Lord and Lady Grantham, the unpredictable Lady Mary and her sisters, the irascible yet loveable dowager countess, and the always loyal downstairs staff – take heart. Downton Abbey’s creator Julian Fellowes has written a book just for the likes of us.

Belgravia’s story begins on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. The Duchess of Richmond holds a ball that is famous for decades as the highlight of social elegance. In addition to the standard social set, the duchess invited several newly-rich industrialists, shocking many of the aristocrats. A romance that is set in place at this ball between the son of an aristocrat and the daughter of a wealthy but not aristocratic working class man and woman sets off a string of intrigue, romance, scandal, and family secrets that would make Dowager Lady Grantham blush.

Fast forward to the 1840s, when secrets are revealed that set the story into play. Much like Downton Abbey, Belgravia has both the upstairs and the downstairs drama. The story, while admittedly predictable, is still fun and dramatic and a fascinating look at the mores of the the early- to mid-19th Century, when the Industrial Age was making common people wealthy.

Belgravia won’t win any literary awards. Fellowes’ novel reads more like a screenplay than a novel. But the characters are interesting and it’s fun to get a peek into their world, and the world around them. Unlike the Downton Abbey downstairs staff, the maids and cooks and butlers are not so good and open to corruption if the price is right. Lots of dastardly deeds.

A fun read for fans of Downton Abbey.

Here is link to the book.  

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Thursday Thoughts

Not-So-Frightful Weather
Well, while it was quite cold yesterday, the heavy snow that the local weather teams predicted never quite materialized. Late in the afternoon, there was maybe an inch-and-a-half to shovel. Even the temps didn’t get down as low as was predicted (though I’m not sure that there is a heck of a lot of difference between 7 degrees and 15 degrees. Nevertheless, Bill worked in his office all day wearing a warm vest, and finally came out late in the afternoon and said, “I’m pretty sure my office is the coldest place in the house.” So we did something we haven’t done in a long time: we lit a fire in the fireplace.

Bosch
I finished another book yesterday in my frantic attempt to read all of the library books that had been on hold and became available all at once. At the end of the book that I read, which was a mystery novel — most recent in a lengthy series that takes place in LA and features a detective named Harry Bosch — my book told me that Amazon had a television series available that was based on these books. I’m not even sure that I knew that Amazon produced television programs, but I think many companies now are in the TV business. Anyway, because I am a member of Amazon Prime, this program is available to me for free. So I figured out how I could watch it on my iPad, but now I need to figure out how to get it transferred to my TV so that Bill can also watch. My high-tech brain should be able to figure it out exactly never. I’ll put Bill on it!

Christmastime is Here
christms-cookie-ingredientsI have made a couple of steps towards doing some Christmas baking. I always do a couple of kinds of cookies. In the past, I have also done Almond Roca, but I think that’s a no-go this year because of my blasted low-fiber diet. It’s true that I could make it for others to enjoy, but Almond Roca happens to be one of those things that I can’t leave alone. Sorry friends and family. Yesterday I began my baking by making biscotti dipped in chocolate (and try finding a nutless recipe for biscotti!). I plan on baking some more cookies today, since the weather remains chilly…..

biscotti

Projection
At my request, Bill bought me a projection clock radio for my birthday. And also at my request, he gave it to me early. I don’t know if you’ve seen these things, but we first saw one at our daughter Heather’s house in VT. The time is projected onto the ceiling, allowing you to know what time it is any time of the night without having to turn and look at the clock, or lift your head to see the time across the room. I absolutely love it! I wake up somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 times a night, and I always have to look at the time to see if it is even marginally reasonable for me to awaken. So this makes it easy for me to see the time. What will they think of next?

Ciao!

Cold Noses

There’s kind of a funny phenomenon around Colorado. When the weather talk turns to snow, the grocery stores start to empty their shelves.

Except it doesn’t seem to have happened this time around. Well, except for me.

The weather people began talking a few days ago about a change in weather. While we’ve had mostly a mild fall and early winter, the somber meteorologists began talking a few days ago, first, about a drop in temperature; and second, about measurable snowfall.

Rats. Bill and I had sort of hoped this kind of weather would hold off until after Christmas so that we would already be settled in nice mild-temperatured Arizona when the snowflakes made their first serious appearance.

The snow was scheduled to start falling anywhere from late yesterday morning to just before Tuesday rush hour. In fact, the first flakes didn’t begin to fall where we live until around 9 or 10 o’clock. Monday’s weather forecast said four to six inches would fall in Denver. Enough that we were going to have to pull out our snow shovel. Rats again.

Except that didn’t happen, again, at least not here. This morning when I got up, the grass is barely covered with a bit of snow. But it is as cold as a family dinner with the Trumps and the Clintons.

I made a point of getting to the grocery store yesterday morning sometime around 9 o’clock to beat the egg-and-bread hoarding crowd. The temperature was in the low 20s, but the sky was blue as a robin’s egg. But apparently the fear-of-snow phenomenon was limited only to me because the store was practically empty of people but full of eggs, milk, bread, and eggnog – all of the blizzard staples. But I didn’t care because I wanted to be at home, nestled in my easy chair when the first flakes began to fall. And I was. Long before, in fact.

There are a couple of kinds of people in the world. There are those who like sunny, warm weather, short-sleeves, flip flops, and gin-and-tonics. That would be me. Then there are those who like cold temperatures, snow falling, snow boots, and hot chocolate. That would NOT be me. And it would not be Bill. Despite both of us having grown up in the Midwest, we each groan when we hear that the temperatures will be freezing or lower. And we tear up when we hear that snow will be falling.

The only thing good about cold weather is cooking. While I love to grill, after a few months of chops and steaks and burgers cooked outdoors, I yearn to put on a pot of soup or place a tough cut of meat in my Le Creuset Dutch oven and let it simmer until it’s fall-off-the-bone tender.

I love heating up my house by baking bread or cookies or roasting meat in the oven.

Because the fact of the matter is that our house is COLD. It is a two story, built-in-the-early-70s sieve. So, during much of the winter – at least when we are here – we have cold noses and chilly toes, even when we turn up the temperature.  We have taken to really looking like old people with our cardigans or sweater vests.

When I awoke today, the temperature was in the single digits. The high temperature is predicted to be 13 or 14 degrees. But that’s okay, because I went to the grocery store yesterday. So I will nestle into my chair today, just as I did yesterday, try to stay warm, and think about the mild temperatures coming my way soon.

This post linked to Grammy’s Grid.