Alright, it’s winter in Minnesota, I get it. But I’m crying, “Uncle!” Not that it will do much good. My driveway is hopelessly covered by a deep blanket of the white stuff and I had to, again, cancel appointments today. I’m back in my purple bath robe, writing.
My progress on my memoir probably is aided by the snow days we’ve had this winter, so there’s that. My house is as clean as it’s going to get. If I start alphabetizing my bookshelves, I may draw the line. My husband and I are sharing a cold virus and are in competition for who recovers first.
I’ve tried to stay away from TV but I did rent The Wife from Amazon Prime Video. Since the subject was writing, I found it fascinating. Glenn Close was riveting in the title role. She portrayed her character’s wide range of emotions superbly. My favorite moment was watching her hear her grandchild’s voice for the first time.
Speaking of grandchildren, I picked mine up from school last week and noticed the pile of snow next to the parking lot. It got me thinking of my childhood school days spent sliding down what felt like mountains of snow. Either those hills were huge or I was closer to the ground. Some future engineers made multiple twisting ice slides out of the snow pack for all of the kids to enjoy. Invariably, one or two per recess would bang their head but we were willing to take the risk.
Cooking is easier when you’re home all day, too. I’ve tried a lot of different homemade soups, roasts and meat sauces. With my background as a stay at home mom, I have no issue finding things to occupy my time. It’s the idea I can’t leave should I want to that bothers me.
We live in a town house and pay dearly with our management fees to have our walks and driveway cleared. This doesn’t preclude us from clearing it ourselves, but geez, it’s a pain in the rump. All they can manage is once during the dump. As I write I just saw my shoveler has arrived. Hope springs eternal.
Enjoy whatever comes your way,