Snowbound-ish...

The weather forecast was true.  Woke up to a great snow storm, good enough that I'm not driving down the mountain to the park, upsetting Ozzy's routine to the point he is no longer speaking to me--a relief actually as his whining and shouting (barking impatiently) was getting very annoying.  He's now realized I can't be swayed and is moping by the front windows, occasionally letting me know how unhappy he is with long, dramatic sighs.

In light of the crap weather--though to me it's beautiful in the pristine silence--I'm going to write the next bit in the Scribbles story while I have such a nice block of time without having to go anywhere.

Here are a few shots of the snow, though those of you in the Snow Zones will no doubt scoff and say, "You call that snow?"  Yeah, I do, but no matter...it makes a change from rain and gloomy skies even if it's just inches rather than feet.

Two views of the back; the valley below is totally obscured....

 

From the driveway side, and even the big gnarly oaks are hard to see through the snowfall...

From the front deck.  And what is it about a birch, or five?  I love these trees.  They look cool in the Summer all green and willowy, but just as good in Winter with bare spindly branches and divots from the woodpeckers...

In the time it's taken to write this, the snow has stopped and the sun is blazing in the windows.  I can see the valley now, but coming over the mountains in the distance are some very black and ominous clouds.  I think it's just going to be one of those days...on and off, sunshine and storms.

And I'm more than okay with that.  I've got words to write and plots to entangle...

Yeah, I Know Plans Change, But...

So.  Second week of the 52s, and already the thing I had planned is not likely to happen, nor, as it turns out, the one for week three.  There's a reason why we say,"the best-laid plans of mice and men, often go awry."  And trust me, they go just as wrong for women, and little dogs.

This week's adventure was to find two of the six covered bridges that are scattered randomly across my corner of the world.  They're old, very cool and the pictures I've seen remind me of New England.  The two I'm looking for are within striking distance, though there will be serious wandering over hill and dale trying to find them.  One is 25 miles east of me, the other 23 miles west.  I knew I would be too busy Tuesday and Wednesday, so decided Thursday might be a good day, but Friday for sure.

Plan Derailment #1:  Tonight the weather is taking a serious dive.  High winds, drastic temperature drop, and snow that is to continue through the weekend.  Not exactly explore the backroads of America weather.  Nuts.  But, okay, I'll move this adventure down the list and try to think of something else new and fun to do instead...on top of my mountain...in a blizzard...

Next week's project was a stretch out of my comfort zone, but something I really wanted to do.  The Valley Arts Association is having their opening night reception to kick off the Arts season.  Local artists, wine and new artwork to view at the Expose Yourself 2013 event.  I love art shows, exhibits, receptions, but one thing I have a hard time doing--and being an outgoing person, it's a weird personality glitch--is to walk solo into a room full of strangers.  Eewww.  However, as part of my 52s project, and because I want to see the art, regardless of being totally out of my zone, I was looking forward to doing it.

Plan Derailment #2:  Yesterday I took the boys for their annual doggy wellness checks.  They got their shots, physicals, all is going fine, both are fit and healthy, then I casually mention to the vet that Max has this funny little lump on his chest, about the size of a pea.  He looks, frowns, decides to take a cell sample, and ten minutes later we're scheduling Max for surgery next week to remove a cancerous tumor.  Holy crap.  It's some kind of awful aggressive cancer that needs to be dealt with immediately.  Have I already said holy crap, or was that just my head spinning? 

I love my vet, he is an amazing, caring man and I trust this will go fine.  I'm also very glad I not only noticed the lump, but told him about it, though wow, I had no clue things would take such a turn.  It goes without saying that I won't be going to the Arts reception on Friday as poor Max will just be out of surgery, all dopey and stitched up.

So.  Snow and surgery and two derailments.  Is this a test?  (If so, bugger off, Zeus!)  I'm not giving in, or losing my momentum on the 52s, though it will be interesting to see what I come up with if the snow really comes.  If it doesn't, I might toss the boys in the car over the weekend and meander off the beaten track to find at least one of the bridges. 

And next week's escapade?  Well, maybe being the caregiver to Frankenweenie will just have to be the adventure...

Haiku Heights 203...Script

Crow on gravestone, Cramond Kirk, Edinburgh 2009

Words faded and worn

Memories deep in cold stone

Written across time

This week's Haiku Heights befuddled me for a moment, then a photo I took one dreary morning popped into my head, along with a different perspective on the prompt.  A bit macabre, I admit, but that's the wonder in words...

Magpie Tales 150...Inevitable

 

image by Daniel Murtagh

Invincible in her beauty and youth

She has caused such a ripple

With that flash of taut nipple

Too soon to know gravity’s truth

 

I love the image for this week's Magpie Tales prompt.   It's ethereal and mysterious...and just about impossible to ignore the focal point--and no, I don't mean her face, (though she's lovely).

 

First Week of 52...Black & White

I've been really busy for the past few days and thought maybe I wouldn't have time to do my first of the 52's.  And even if I hadn't been on the run, there is just totally, absolutely, nothing going on anywhere around town in this let-down week after the holidays.  But then, thanks to the weather, I found my inspiration.

After the most gloriously beautiful New Year's day, the next two were so dreary, with dense chilling fog, the contrast couldn't have been more striking--which is what led me to explore something new...

A wee bit of back story before we carry on...

In the late 80s, early 90s, I was a fanatic about photography.  I never went anywhere without my camera; it was either in my pack, my purse, around my neck, or in my hand.  I still love this battered ol' thing more than any other camera I've owned.  It's probably gone more places than most people.  Just now, taking it out of the camera case, the solid weight of it in my hand gave me such a pang; it felt right, comfortable and true.  So many adventures, so many miles, so many great photos...


See what I mean? Time capsule photo.  Same camera, clutched in my hand, as I sit on the edge of the abyss.

I went through several photography phases: faces, architecture, landscapes--my Georgia O'Keeffe period actually made me some money--but after the exotic colors and textures of flowers, I did a complete reversal and went black & white.  Back then, there were no Photoshop programs, no digital cameras.  You bought black and white film, turned your brain upside down and visualized contrast, not color.  It was a hard skill to learn, but ultimately it was a very cool way to look at the world.  One of my favorite things was to get up early on a Sunday morning, grab my trusty Nikon, two rolls of b&w film and wander the streets of Seattle.  I got some amazing shots.

And now, finally, we come to the gist of this post, and the First of the 52's...

Wednesday afternoon, walking with the dogs to the mailbox, crap visibility, a familiar tree along our route came slowly out of the fog as we drew closer.  The ethereal contrast of dark limbs and trunk enveloped in dull, misty white transported me back in time when I roamed Seattle, in rain, fog, sunshine and shadow.  Suddenly, I knew what my first week's adventure was going to be.

I have a fairly new camera, a Canon SX40, maybe six months old.  I like it, though haven't worked out some of the kinks and tricks yet.  Back from the mailbox, I go through some of the camera's functions, and yes, there is a black and white mode.  (Yeah, I know, any photo can be turned into b&w with even the most basic photo program.  But that's not what I want).

To my mind, the shots I've taken over the past two days are nothing compared to the contrast that can be achieved with my old tried and true SLR and a roll of black and white film.  I believe I've sacrificed quality, though the trade-off is instant gratification.  Isn't that the definition of progress nowadays?

Anyway, here are my photos...

The tree that grew out of the fog and became the start of my first adventure:

The next morning, walking the dogs at the soccer field park, the gnarly, twisted branches of a tree caught my eye, so stark against the bleak sky:

 

I stood beneath another tree--huge and old--then leaned against the trunk and shot straight up into the boughs...

Home again, I saw this beautiful web, frozen between two rails of the fence next to the garage:

 

Then I discovered another function on my camera, Color Accent.  My Poinsettia has just one red bloom left, so I focused on the red and made the background b&w.  I tried to find other colors around the garden to experiment further, but it's January.  I'll give it another try in the Spring.

I took these last two side-by-side, one monochrome, the other color.  In this case, the color is by far the better shot.  That's the beauty of black and white: You truly have to shut off the color in your mind and only see the contrasts, and there wasn't enough in this tree trunk.  It's a very cool tree, just not in b&w.

So, the First of the 52's.  I learned some new things about my camera, renewed my love of black and white photography, and did a little restructuring in my mind.  As far as I'm concerned, this was a good start...

Smiles in the Sunshine

Great start to the first day of 2013 up on my mountain: sun is shining, blue skies, cold and crispy fresh air.  I so hope this is a good omen of things to come...

Watching the Rose Bowl Parade, as I have done dozens of times over the years.  I love the excitement, the incredible floats, and yes, even the marching bands.  The parade has always meant New Year's morning to me...even hung over and still half in the bag--the good ol' days--I would get myself a huge cup of coffee, stagger back to bed, and manage to watch the parade.

Nowadays, things have changed, of course.  No more wild parties with crazy friends, and just a few glasses of wine last night as I waited for midnight and the ball drop in New York, calming poor Ozzy when the fireworks went off down in the valley, then falling asleep with a wee dog on either side of me.

Still, some things, thankfully, don't change.  I'm happy with my mug of coffee as the sun streams in the windows and I listen to the marching bands, admiring the beautiful floats as they glide down the wide streets of Pasadena. 

It's good to be smiling on the first day of a new year...

Counting Down...

Only a few hours left and 2012 is over...forever.  Even though it means time is inexorably moving on and I'm not getting any younger, it also means a new year filled with endless possibilities where anything can happen--an exciting, yet slightly scary awareness.

So, I've been thinking today about my 52 Weeks plan, and already have six things in mind that I've either meant to do or want to do.  It's an odd, eclectic half dozen adventures, and no, I'm not telling until I do each one, but then you'll be the first to know...

Here's a cool thing:  A quick, simple way to feel refreshed that works like a magic trick...

Rub your hands together really vigorously until they feel toasty, then cup them over your closed eyes for 10 seconds or so.  During those seconds, breathe deep and exhale a few times.  Applying the gentle heat and energy of your hands to your eyes counteracts the tired feeling.  Try it...

Thanks everyone for stopping by this year, reading my words, admiring my photos, leaving comments now and again.  I hope we'll stay neighbors, chatting over the fence in our cyber cul-de-sac in the future.  

I wish you all a wonderful 2013, filled with love and laughter and joy. 

Happy New Year!

Namasté.

 

Room With a View...

I talk to Jan (BFF) on Sundays.  Today we're mulling over what's happened since last week's phone call; we commiserate about men, goofy dogs, the sad and sorry state of the world, and what I'm currently writing.  Along the way, we laugh, feel bad, perk up and laugh some more.  We could take this act on the road, it's so familiar and comforting.

As we're talking, I wander about the house doing easy chores, like watering the plants, start the laundry, make a smoothie, load the dishwasher...whatever I can do that only takes one hand.  So, as I'm dinking, I happen to glance out one of the front room windows that overlooks the road and the ol' dead oak tree on the other side.  I stop, squint, move closer and stare.  Jan asks me what's wrong as I've stopped talking in mid-sentence.  "It's the hawk," I whisper, as if the bird could hear me and fly off.

"Quick!" she yells, "Get your camera!"

This is the third time in as many weeks the hawk has either appeared or flown around the house while I've been talking to her.  I have yet to get a solid shot of the guy.  I grab the camera and dash to the den window which has an unobstructed view of the tree.

"Is he still there?"

"Yeah," I mutter, "though I'm having a hard time holding the phone and the camera--"

"Put down the damn phone!"

I drop the phone to the desk, but now I'm having trouble focusing the telephoto because I'm laughing at the tiny little voice wafting up from my phone as Jan keeps asking me questions.  "Shut up," I hiss, then we both start laughing harder.  Pathetic really.  If I worked for Nat Geo, I could never take her with me on assignments.

Still.  Here are three fairly good photos of the elusive Red tailed Hawk.  He is not only a very handsome fellow, but huge.  Like eagle-sized huge.  If you click on the last two shots, look at the color of those eyes.  Wow.  I think I'm in love...

Later, pictures taken, Jan asks me about New Year's resolutions, but I mention that instead I'm attempting The 52 Weeks idea.  Now we've decided to do it together.  Well, not do the same things, but do one thing each week, then on Sundays we can tell what we did.  Since we both live in very small towns, there will definitely be challenges; there's only so much going on, after all.

Though, maybe that will be half the fun...??

Haiku Heights 202...New

Buried treasure sleeps

Spring awakens budding life

Bright golden smiles

 

 

 

New was the prompt this week at Haiku Heights.  I have always loved the way daffodils are planted in Scotland, in massive clumps buried in lawns and gardens, popping up willy nilly every Spring like new-found gems.  I took this photo a few years back of the kirk (church) down the street from our house in Edinburgh.  This is just a small portion of the daffodils that covered the area in riotous profusion.  So beautiful...

 

Slightly Odd Day...

It started nice and early with the electricity going off, for no reason I could figure.  I had just poured my first cup of coffee, when suddenly everything went dark.  All the utilities are underground, the weather was overcast,  but no wind or rain, so I don't know what happened--still don't.  The furnace had barely come on, so the house was cold and getting colder by the minute, then the two hard-wired fire alarms started to alternate between an annoying chirp and an ear-splitting screech, which sent Max into I'm-Gonna-Die mode.  The poor guy, he runs down one hallway to hide in the den, and the alarm bleats; he freaks, runs down the other hallway just as that alarm does the shrieking thing.  Back and forth he ran, until I finally put him in the back bathroom, far from the turmoil before he had a heart attack.

[And speaking of those blasted fire alarms.  Why would anyone have alarms that were wired into the electrical system?  So, your electricity goes out, you're blissfully asleep, and the house catches fire.  What kind of plan is that??  Alan and I installed battery-operated ones, of course, but who knew the electric ones would come to life like hungry vampires?]

Half an hour later, just as I'm wondering how to open my (electric) garage door so I can get the three of us out of the house and into a warm car, the lights are magically restored.  I quickly open the garage, and we head down the mountain to the park.

The soccer park is totally empty, which means the boys can have a little off-leash time, and I'm the only car in the whole huge parking lot.  As I start to open the back door to let the dogs out, this gnarly ol' pickup truck comes toward me, and parks about three spaces away...in a lot with dozens of empty spots.  Crap.  Ozzy is bouncing up and down, eager to get going, but I'm not liking this scenario, so I make him wait while I wonder what's up with this guy.

He lumbers out of the truck, and right behind him two pit bulls come flying.  Double crap.  Neither dog is wearing a collar, which means no leash, though right off the bat it's pretty clear this isn't a leash-type guy anyway.  There's no frigging way I'm letting my two snacks out of the car now.  Resigned, I get back in and drive away, Ozzy whining the whole time.  We ended up at a different park, very muddy and boggy, but the boys didn't care.

Back home, I make a coffee, then call Mom for my usual Friday catch-up.  She wants to make scones, and has a recipe I sent her from Scotland, but the butter amount is too smudged to read, so she asks me how much.  Bear in mind I sent her this recipe in 2003; like I remember how much butter?  I start going through my cookbooks, then my two overflowing recipe boxes, and though I find several scone variations, I'm not finding the one that matches the one she has.  Eventually, comparing all the versions, I make a judgment call on the flour to butter ratio.  By this time I'm wanting some scones myself, so when we hang up, I whip up a small batch of eight.

When I take them out of the oven, 20 minutes later, they look like crackers.  Flatter than pancakes.  WTF?  I'm dumbfounded.  I've made scones dozens of times.  Grumpy, still trying to figure what's gone wrong, while putting the self-raising flour back into its container...I notice the expiration date says January, 2011.  Two years, people.  Two.

Goes to show a) I don't often use self-raising flour, and b) they really mean it on that expiration date.

I'm having Santa Fe soup tonight for dinner, and these scone crackers will taste great with the spicy flavor of the soup.  They're a bit crispy on the outside, and soft in the middle; I'm thinking of sprinkling a little Parmesan on top, then giving them a quick broil.  And hey, I might have just invented an entirely new snack cracker.

Though, I still want a scone.  Too bad I don't have any flour...

One Down...One To Go...

Christmas done and dusted for another year.  I had a very pleasant day, just the boys and me.  We took a nice long, late morning walk, then I did some writing, reading, and made a really great dinner later in the afternoon.  It was a quiet, cozy day, which was just fine.

So, now there's only New Year's left, and we can call it 'game over' for 2012.  Considering what kind of year it's been, it will be good to see the backside of it.

As always, I have high hopes when a new year starts.  I try to keep thinking the glass is at least half full for as long as I can, and depending on outside influences, sometimes I can actually maintain a positive attitude clear into February.  Just kidding.  Mostly.

Here's another thing: I don't do resolutions.  Setting myself up to fail isn't how I like to do things.  Although, this year I am going to try something.  I was reading a review on a book called, The 52 Weeks, by Karen Amster-Young and Pam Godwin (out in 2013).  The premise is to try a new thing, once a week, for a year.  It doesn't have to be hard or complicated: cooking something new, going somewhere different, talking to a stranger, learning how to waltz.  The point is to expand your horizons, step out of the familiar, and have some fun in the process.

So, that's my big plan for 2013.  No resolutions, just possibly some fun experiences.  And if you think about it, that's only 52 things in the whole year.  Surely I can find 52 new things to try.  Right?  Right.

You know I'll be posting about this--weekly, if all goes well.  It will be interesting to see how it plays out...

Regardless of Persuasion...

Happy Holidays !!

 

 

Coffee, With a Side of Perky

So, Mom and I are talking yesterday.  Chit chat, catch-up, nothing big, when suddenly she bursts out laughing.  For a few seconds there she can't stop long enough to tell me what's so funny.  Finally, still breathless, she asks me if I've seen the television commercial about the woman buying her kid a big doll house.  I guffaw.  "The one with the too-perky sales person?"  And we're off, both of us howling, stomachs aching, tears streaming.  I manage to gasp out, "Redwoods, the drive-thru coffee place..." 

Here, let me explain...
 
A few years ago, when Alan and I first came to America, we stayed at my mother's house for a bit.  One day, we decided to take a road trip, so the three of us piled into the car and drove south to the Redwoods, a place I wanted Alan to see.  It was a beautiful drive, not even two hours from Mom's, through ancient forests and winding mountain roads.  We do the northern section of the Redwoods--it would take more time and involve hiking to see the whole park, something Mom can't do.  In the afternoon, before heading back, we stop in this small town on the California coast to have lunch.  Can't decide where to eat, so I suggest we get some coffee, and we can ask a local where a good place might be.
 
We pull up to the little drive-thru coffee kiosk and before I've even started to lower my window, this girl bounces forward--literally--and chirps out the most manically cheerful "Hello!!!!!!  What wonderful drink can I get for you today?" that I've ever heard.  It's so over the top, I'm startled for a moment, completely taken aback.
 
I'm driving, Mom's in the passenger seat, Alan's in the back.  I turn to Mom with a look of horror on my face.  She takes one look at me and bites her lip to keep from laughing.  I try to act like an adult, but it's hard.  Remaining calm, I ask what she and Alan want, then tell the girl, who exuberantly says, "Excellent choices!!!!!!!" and again bounces to the coffee machine like she's got tennis balls glued to her feet.
 
"Oh god," I mutter to Mom.  She starts to laugh.  I tell her to stop because I'm hanging by a thread.  Right then the girl comes to the window and tries to talk us into having "Yummy whipped cream" on our coffees.  I tell her no thanks.  She does this pout thing that makes my mother snort, and again tries to sell the whipped cream.  Jokingly, I say, "Do you get a commission on the whipped cream?"  Blankly, she looks at me.  Mom is eating the sleeve on her sweater, and I'm trying, so, so hard, to be nice.
 
I tell her to please forget the extras, we just want coffee because we're going to lunch, then take the segue by asking if she knows a good place to eat.  A very, very big mistake.  Miss Perky totally forgets our coffees, and proceeds to give us a complete menu rundown on each and every restaurant, bar and fast food joint in town.  Thank all the gods in this world and the next it was a small town.  She bounced, she giggled, she dithered, she wandered, and I'm sure there were at least two more blank moments.  At one point I mumbled under my breath that I wanted whatever drugs she was having.

At long last, unable to stand it, I (politely) interrupt, remind her about our drinks, then as I'm pulling away, she shouts after us, "Have a super wonderful day!!!!!!"  When I get onto the highway, Mom commends me for not leaping through the window and strangling the girl, knowing my threshold is extremely low for mindless perkiness.  As we drive away, I start talking all chirpy and goofy, then reiterate that I really should have ordered whatever kind of coffee the employees drink because no one is naturally that cheery.  The three of us lose it at this point and I have to pull the car to the side of the road because I can't see to drive from laughing.
 
So yesterday...

In the commercial, as the woman leaves with her Christmas doll house, the clerk bounces behind the counter and says soooo cheerfully, "Have a super sparkly day!!!!!!!!!!"  I tell Mom it has to be the coffee girl's sister.  We crack up again.  It was the best laugh I've had in ages.  Mom said every time she sees the ad, she thinks about that road trip.

As we finished our phone call, Mom and I tried to beat each other to the punch, but ended up saying it at the same time.   We were both laughing as we hung up, "Have a super sparkly day!!!!!" echoing in our heads.  

I think it's just become the new goodbye.

Haiku Heights 201...Snow

Drifting flakes fall soft

Winter homes silent and cold

Snowbirds have flown south

 

 

 

[Prompt this week from Haiku Heights.  I took this photo last year of the birdhouse in my back garden.  The image also made me think of all the houses left behind when, every year, 'snowbirds' head to warmer climes in their RVs.]

What Day Is It...??

Tomorrow, December 21st, the shortest day of the year, the Winter Solstice.  How cool, because now it's straight uphill, each day growing just a tiny bit longer and brighter as we slog through January--endless, bleak January--then February, March, until suddenly we notice those tell-tale signs of Spring, see those little buds poking up through snow, mud, or dirt.

I don't mind hunkering down for a few months, slowing the pace.  With miserable, bad weather, there are valid reasons to stay home, wear cozy warm clothes, read or nap on a blustery Sunday afternoon, snuggle on the couch to watch old movies under a quilt.   Ah, the hidden joys of Winter...

Now, about those strange folk who don't see tomorrow as the Winter Solstice, but instead think the world will end because of a very misunderstood and badly interpreted Mayan tablet.  I don't know what to say.  I've written before on my complete bafflement on this issue, so won't go into it again, because I just don't get it.  I really don't.  But, each to his own, I guess.  And if tomorrow the world implodes?  Well, I'll be the first to say, "oops."

I doubt I'll have to say that however, because here's what I really think:

Happy Winter Solstice everyone...

Heap on more wood--the wind is chill;

But let it whistle as it will,
We'll keep our Christmas merry still.

                                                                                 -- Sir Walter Scott

Words, Wind and Wee Dogs

In case no one noticed, I just have to point out that I finished the 2012 Reading Challenge!!  Totally cool that I actually managed to finish something this year.  Okay, I know that's not really true, I finish stuff all the time, but after bailing on NaNo and feeling a bit like a loser, I really wanted to nail this one.
 
And hey, if you're wondering: I'm loving my Lemon Cheesecake cookies...though they don't look like something you would take to a Christmas Cookie Exchange, do they?  Still, if you close your eyes and take a bite, they taste exactly like cheesecake.  The base is a graham cracker crust-like mixture, then the dollop in the middle is the cheesecake stuff.  So.  Who cares what they look like as long as they're tasty...right??

I'm having fun with the Library story on blog two.  Course, I wrote too much for a single post, I think, so divided Chapter One into two parts, even though in an actual book, 2,300 words is just about right for a chapter.  Oh well, it's a blog, not a book.
 
Weather is bitterly cold, and again with the wind!  When we walked to get the mail this afternoon, a very strong gust blew up the mountain and actually rolled wee Ozzy across the road!  He was not a happy boy and looked at me like it was my fault, which made me laugh.  After I plucked all the road debris off him, I carried him for a bit just to soothe his ruffled feelings.  It can't be good to only weight as much as a bag of flour when it's really blustery.
 
Still.  He got a ride out of the deal...I just got numbed fingers and frozen earlobes.

Seriously? You Call That a Storm?

Some good snow overnight, though right now at 3:00pm it's so sunny I'm nearly blind from the glare beaming through the front windows, and all the beautful fluffy white is gone.  What kind of crap storm was that?  I was truly hoping for a couple of gnarly snow days, but though the sky is churning with black clouds, they aren't coming anywhere in my direction.  Nuts...

I finished the new blog and the prologue, but haven't officially published either.  I'm not totally pleased with it, but hope once I get into the plot, the next installment will be more interesting.  Uh huh.  This whole idea could be one big charley foxtrot, but I'll run with it for now. 

Here's the link, if anyone's curious: www.scribbles2013.blogspot.com.

And now that I've linked it, I guess I'd better go publish the stuff, huh?  Then I'm off to make some Lemon Cheesecake Cookies.  I saw this recipe on a Food Network show the other day and hopefully it will be as easy for me to bake as it was for the TV person. 

Okay, I know.  Famous last words...

Storms Aplenty

Last night I thought the house was going to blow off the mountain.  So did the boys.  Truly strong winds, branches falling, debris crashing into the windows, lost internet and television, and a long stretch with constantly flickering lights that made me put out flashlights and candles all over the house.  We went to bed earlier than usual, though none of us could settle very well, what with the weird noises and the wind wailing like a banshee 'round the corners of the house.  A bad storm is a good time to be glad I have a Kindle.  I was under my heavy blankets, a dog on either side, and a book to read that didn't require electricity, candles or even my trusty flashlight.

Then this morning we woke to torrential rains, some of the blackest clouds I have ever seen, and my Christmas wreath in the bushes across the road.  It's a bit the worse for wear, but I put it back up anyway, though this will likely be the last year, poor beat up old thing.

Against my better judgment, I took the boys down the mountain to the park later in the morning.  We managed to get about ten minutes into a very soggy walk when the skies burst open and the rain took 'downpour' to a whole new level.  I thought Ozzy was going to wash away, so we all turned tail and ran back to the car.  It didn't escape my notice that we were the only dopes ones out there either. 

So, heading back home in wet coats (them) and drenched clothes (me), the car smelling like damp dog and the bag of poop in my pocket that I forgot to toss in my haste to get back to the car.  And believe me, with the heat on and in the confined space of the Blazer, I was sorely tempted more than once to throw the bag out the window, but I didn't.  I waited--then leaped out of the car and hit the garbage can the second I was in the garage.  Who knew those little bags were so...thin?

This afternoon I worked on the prologue to the story I'm writing for the new blog, while snow and wind raged outside.  There's something so comforting about being inside when the weather is foul.  We walked to the mailbox just before it got dark, which I was sorry about because a) the damn postman was late again so no mail, and b) the temperature was down into the low 30s and dropping with every step.  Guess the weather folks are right for a change: we're supposed to be getting a snowstorm tonight that will carry on into Wednesday.

Being housebound for a day or two might be just what I need to finish #75, the last book in my 2012 Reading Challenge; post the new blog and start the serial story; make some Christmas cookies...and stay indoors warm and cozy.  I've got food, wine, whiskey and a couple pals to keep me company.

Yeah...that works for me.

Snow and Sorrow

It snowed for an hour or so first thing this morning, though didn't stick.   There were just tiny flakes, so ethereal they seemed to float rather than actually fall. Still, it was snow.

In the photo above you can't see the mountains behind the ridges, but every now and then the clouds shift and there's a little glimpse of the real snowfall.

I've been working on building another blog, one that is just my stories, separate from my daily derrings-do on this site.  I have an idea about a novella, or maybe just a long, short story (and there's an oxymoron if I ever wrote one), though everything--the new blog, my thoughts, the plot--are in the early stages.

Since the horrors of yesterday, I have been avoiding the internet, and the television.  I cried for the poor wee babies who perished, and the families who will never recover, but the constant media bombardment is too much for me.  Even trying to get onto my blog just now, I couldn't avoid the screaming headlines.

And I'm not going to soapbox here, but I have to say one thing:  Besides addressing gun regulation--or more specifically the lack thereof--I think this country should also seriously begin focusing on the other, hopelessly overlooked issue of mental illness.  It's not just the gun, it's the mind behind the trigger.

That's all.  Snow and sorrow.  What a world we live in...

Santa's Lap

She hesitantly made her way forward, occasionally jostled by children both in front and behind her in the long line that meandered toward Santa.

Nervous, she kept her eyes on the jolly bearded man as he deftly lifted child after child onto his lap.  He seemed to listen carefully, head tilted, as each one told him what they wanted for Christmas.  His cheerful elf gave every child a large candy cane as they were helped off the platform, sending them on their way with happy smiles.

When her turn came, she balked and started to turn away, but Santa laughed and patted his knee, a distinct twinkle in his eye.

When she was perched on his lap,  he asked, “And what can Santa get you for Christmas, my dear?”

“I really just want a photo of me sitting on your lap,” she said.  “I thought it would be a really funny Christmas present for my parents.”

“I’m sure they’ll love it.”  He faced forward, murmuring, “I know I am.”  As she narrowed her eyes at him, he grinned, then brightly said, “Smile at the camera!”