Keep at it!

That is what the day is telling us: keep those spring thoughts flowing, because really, tough winter days do not last. I promise you: there will be an end and we will once again be planting seeds for a better world garden.

Today's weather is fabulous! 

A high of 50F (10C) once again, with plenty of sunshine! (There can never be too much sunshine in February.)

I have a breakfast date downtown with my two downtown-living friends. I joke that this is the one day I put aside my sweatpants and put on urban attire. It feels good to take pride in your appearance every now and then and these two have an eye for the aesthetic (I suppose we all do, except it's buried beneath a pile of other preoccupations in some). Our regular meetups are always beautiful in the presentation (and delicious in the execution). And of course there are the urban views. Today I face Lake Monona and John Nolen Drive -- which I take to get downtown, and which is where I always snap the skyline pictures, like this one from this morning:

Breakfast:

Inevitably we talk about The News. But in moderation. We talk, too, about what lies ahead on the micro level: in our own back yards. It is one splendid beginning to a good day.

 

And of course, it's reclaiming the pleasure of being outside that puts it over the top for me: my bike was getting it's annual checkup this week (something that Ed rolls his eyes about, since he cannot understand why I would buy into this "need for annual checkups" -- for my own person or for my e-bike). I called Trek (lovely people work there!) and they promised to get it back to me by noon. 

 

 

 

A few minutes later, Ed and I are on our beloved bike loop. 

The somewhat less hilly one (which normally takes us 40 minutes but today took us, um, 45...).

I keep saying again and again -- this is fabulous!

Because it is.

 

 

There's something about bike riding in the country: you are at once fast and yet you notice every detail. You take in so much! And there is joy in taking note of the melting snow, the puddles, and of course, the bright sky framing our beautiful landscape.

Did I put aside the news stories for the day? Of course not. I had some moments of satisfaction though as I watched people gather in protest against cuts in Medicaid in front of Senator Johnson's office. There's so much cruelty taking place right now that your head spins as you try to understand what's going on. Cuts in Medicaid are especially pernicious because, of course, they cut into benefits for the scared, the  sick, old, the vulnerable. There's something unreal about tipping the balance in this way -- towards siphoning off care for those who need it most. Watching the protest made me remember that people do care. Many people do care. 

 

In the afternoon I pick up the kids. 

I never know what stories they'll bring to the car from the day, but by now I can certainly guess that Sparrow will start with all that went wrong in his day and Snowdrop will do just the opposite. Nonetheless, by the time they we got to the farmette, Sparrow had emptied out his bag of woes and Snowdrop had ran through the details of her exciting projects and all was good again.

The day would have ended radiantly, except that after dropping them off in the evening, I glanced over the car's interior and any other day I would have sighed and moved on, but it was just too much: the car was full of kid messes, crumbs, mud, salt stains, debris, dust. Normally I do a grand spring cleanup -- inside and out -- once the temps are warm enough to work a hose and a powerful vacuum on it, but I just could not stand the horror of it right now, so I brought out the hand vacuum and a bucket of soapy water and set to work. This is the third day in a row where I found some domain of our daily life totally beyond the pale in terms of grime (yesterday it was the dish rack, the day before  -- the shower drain), in need of an overhaul and scrub down. Maybe that is, in fact, the surest sign that spring is here? There are things you can tolerate in the winter, but come spring, your visual sensitivities are on high alert. Soon the lilac will bloom, damn it! Surely I need to clean up accumulated grime in preparation for it!

I'll end with my humble appreciation for this extraordinarily lovely day. I know there will be more in the months ahead. And that makes me very happy.

 

Monday melt

When Ed stepped outside this morning, he felt it and commented immediately -- it feels like spring. It's not just the temperature, though reaching 50F (10C) surely helps. It's the smell -- he continued. It really smells like spring. I'm with him on that. Perhaps the smell comes from melting snow, creating slushy, in places muddy paths. Or the dampness of shrubs. Some countries are bragging about snowdrops popping up in their woodlands (that's England for you!). Good for them. We, on the other hand, have the smell of spring.

We also have the smell of skunk in the barn, which is not good news. We'll be attempting a skunk freak-out (a trap and release) to get him to go elsewhere. Let's hope it works. For the sake of the chickens!

Breakfast, with tulips, though tattered around the edges because Dance has decided that she needs to participate in the morning meal and she does this by munching on tulip leaves. Somewhat cute, but mostly annoying!

Afterwards, I have a massage, with a concentration on my neck, head and back. It's always grand for the duration of the massage itself, but I have to say, once I'm up and running again, I'm left wondering if there is any residual benefit to this. Especially since I don't get them on a regular basis (way too expensive and no, health insurance does not believe in therapeutic massages, especially ones that are accompanied by lavender essential oils!). 

Bliss, for an hour anyway. Utter bliss.

I come home around noon and Ed suggests a walk. I'm completely enthusiastic about the idea, though we're getting close to my "pick up the kids" hour. Surely we can do a quick half hour in the forest, along the bike path (because the trails are way too mushy)! It's a great way to extend the benefits of a massage!

Unfortunately, we choose the bike path that runs past a prairie where they appear to be doing a burning of shrubs and tree branches. There is plenty of smoke in the air. The last thing we want is to walk along a smoky path, so we veer to the rural road, which is about as uninteresting as you can get. 

And still, we're in great spirits. We walk up to Lake Waubesa and test the mush on the still frozen waters. (There are fisher people out there so it must be safe, right?) Signs of early spring, everywhere! 

 

 

We come home enthralled by it -- that feeling of a new season just around the corner.

 

And yes, then it really is time to pick up the kids.

Sparrow is a little down because he sooooo wanted ice cream today and we have not the time for it. But Snowdrop is in high spirits.

I finished writing the play and we're rehearsing it on recess! She describes it in great detail to us. Did she write it as an assignment? She did not. So when did you write this? Oh, you know, at the side.

How long is it?

Oh, only ten sections! 

Wow. Pretty long...

Not really -- our Shakespeare play (which she is involved with evenings and weekends) has 39 sections. Good to know that the girl has not out-written Shakespeare. 

Her enthusiasm is contagious. By the time we pull up to the farmhouse, Sparrow has forgotten about the ice cream.

In the evening I bake up shrimp scampi and cauliflower. Sounds weird to combine the two, doesn't it? For us it's the perfect meal. Fill up on the veggie (sprinkled with parmesan), savor the shrimp (smothered in home grown garlic).

Such a beautiful day! Yes, there is that steady trickle of depressing news. You can't avoid it. You shouldn't avoid it. [Gut punch for today? So many... Let me note one that actually comes from Germany. They had their election yesterday. You may or may not like the conservative politics of the winner, but I'll say this: he intends to address the issues people care about (the economy, Russian aggression in the Ukraine, immigration) rather than practicing a crazy politic of revenge and destruction, and a vast majority of the German people did actually cast a vote. 83%. Compare that to our 63.9%. We consistently bring out fewer people on election day than do most established democracies. Those who do not vote are more often than not young, disengaged and disinterested in politics. It doesn't put our democratic project in a good light, does it?] 

And yet on this beautiful day here, at the farmette, we continue to live in a peaceful quiet. And at this time of the year -- it's a brilliant peaceful quiet!

with so much love...

Sunday warmup

In the morning, while fixing breakfast, I listen to Aishah Rascoe (who has to be one of NPR's best!) interview Ilyasah Shabazz, one of the middle daughters of Malcolm X (he had six of them). So much to learn about this man, his life, his evolution, and the image that he left for others to exploit after his death! The interview gave me a new perspective on him. A daughter's perspective, as it were. I was just 11 when he was assassinated and so all I knew was what I learned after. The complexities had faded. Time erases nuance.

I then read an article about Senator Chris Murphy (from Connecticut). I'll gift that one for you here. Why? No, silly reader -- not because his mother is of Polish descent (and has a maiden name remarkably similar to mine), and not because his sister shares the name of one of my daughters! Rather -- because reading it gives you hope. It reminds you that there are smart people in Congress who seek to understand the current crisis and address it with the tools we now have available to us. Pay attention to this guy. If we have elections in 2028 (and it is an "if"), I would expect Murphy to be among the front runners on the Democratic ticket.

Why all this reading early on? Well, Ed did the run to the barn to feed the animals this morning. As a favor, yes, but mostly so that I would hurry up with my morning rituals, so that we could head out to do our (perhaps last) cross country skiing.

Breakfast, still leisurely, followed soon on the heels of morning chores.

And by 10, we were in our local park.

That's exceptionally early for us. Why rush out like this? Because the temps are rising and the snow is melting and there wasn't that much of it in the first place. 

Is this our last ski outing for the year? It could be. Best commemorate it!

(a selfie that didn't quite align well!)

(proof that I was there... in my pink sweatpants)

It is a good outing. Indeed, a great one. We didn't quite get a robust skiing season this year, but we had this -- a few days in February that weren't drab or bleak or centered on the living room couch. We are grateful!

 

And the afternoon, which is in fact split between the couch and chores, quickly morphs into the evening. Dinner with the young family!

(crackers, cheese, olives: take your pick! Snowdrop always goes for the olives. The boys? cheese on very long crackers!)

 

 

 

 

Dinner.

 

 

After everyone was fed and the kitchen was tidied and toys were put away, Ed and I watched a new video from our old farmer favorite (Just a Few Acres). The farmer, who lives in upstate New York, noted that winter was half over. Half over?? No way! I'd say we're heading into spring. Sure, early spring, which does last a long time up north. The ground is hard as a rock and there will be a spotty snow cover for a while. But when you have temps inching up -- for me, that's a sign of early spring. Not just the second half of winter!

One last week of February, coming up!

with love...

Saturday warm-up

Oh there is nothing like a good night's sleep and a day of sunshine to make you almost forget the horrors of this world. Almost, but not quite.

I feed the animals...

Then drive to the bakery for a supply of croissants...

And of course, the news is on. Stories about people who have lost their work. Overnight. With suddenly nothing. No word on unemployment compensation, health insurance. Just a big silence. 

I read later several comments on this. From good employers who had had to fire people in their companies. They wrote how tough it was -- they couldn't sleep for days knowing that they were imposing hardship on families. And there, the termination was warranted. Not random, helter skelter, based not on efficiencies but on someone's idea of a good time. "Let's have some fun!"-- cries the perpetrator (Thursday, Musk). While people suffer.

By the time I sit down to breakfast I'm jolted out of my state of blissful peace. 

Still, I eat breakfast with Ed, and Dance, and those two help me let go a little of the tension. 

 

And the croissant is excellent! It took many, many years before croissants sold in bakeries here could be ranked as superb. And I say this having baked croissants for L'Etoile for several years. (I thought they were just okay.) These days, I have no complaints. The fact is, several of our bakeries make fine croissants. Madison Sourdough just happens to have ones Ed and I regard as top of the line.

 

 

 

Later in the morning, Ed went to give blood again (free t-shirt!) and I did my usual guaranteed relaxation: a rework of a trip. This one isn't until the summer, but it was great fun re-imagining it.  It's as if I already took the one that was on the books, then scrapped, and now I was ready for something new! 

And in the afternoon Ed and I pack our cross country skis into the car and head out to our local park. And it is beautiful. 

The forest is quiet. Not a soul in sight. The wind on the prairie is gusty, but here, in the woods, the trees shelter us. I suppose they've seen it all: people have done some pretty insane, destructive things before. And they will do it again. But the trees will stand tall despite the tumult. In the forest, I can always lose myself in their quiet, their sympathetic nod. Their protective branches.

Home again. I make chicken soup, with egg noodles. Seems a good option for tonight. Now if Ed would only find light fare on the TV, we'd be set! Eh, we're set anyway. We are among the lucky. Unemployed by choice. Old, but content.

with love...

Friday in favor of moderation

So much sunshine! Take one look at the weather: there's a real push toward spring.

 

 

 

We are feeling boisterous. Breakfast chatter is about fixing some things (cat door to sheep shed, for example). Hard to believe that in two months I'll be outlining my planting agenda for the day. 

But boisterous doesn't equate with fast. For example, our breakfast? Slow...

Do I sound like a broken record when I say (yet again!) that sometimes slow is good and speed is destructive?

I read in the press interviews with those who voted for the leadership we have now in this country and I am surprised how many are favorably impressed with how fast this administration is forcing through its agenda. 

Is that good? 

I am reminded of Sandpiper's visits to the farmhouse on Sundays. He can undo any structure the other two may have built or set up in the course of the week, with lightening speed. And he's just three years old. Amazing how easy it is to shoot a cannon ball at something that was erected with patience and care. Quick to wreck, without thought or analysis. This is a good thing?? I don't understand. What have you gained from it now and more importantly, how will this affect your future?  Do you even know? Don't you wonder if someone is maybe pulling the wool over your eyes with all this talk of fraud and waste without evidence of either? Blindsiding you just a bit? Quickly, with speed, before you can understand what's really happening? 

 

We go cross country skiing. It's windy but beautiful outside! We're not fast on the trails. But not slow either. Moderate!

 

And I pick up the kids, bring them home...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

... feed them, give them play space, read, then pack into the car so that the girl can get to her lessons on time. We've taken to pausing then at Barrique's. Sparrow and I, and eventually my daughter, and still later the lesson girl. It's a great way to let go of the week and ease into the weekend. What are your plans? -- she asks. What are yours -- I want to know.

I drive home. To Ed, to the farmhouse. To our peaceful quiet. 

with love...

 

skiing

I have a friend who has two kids and a handful of grandkids. Some live in Wisconsin, the rest in Hawaii. The whole family likes to ski and so once a year they meet up at some midpoint destination (Utah for example) for a few days of skiing. I asked her recently -- how are the grandkids at skiing? She said -- well, the Wisconsin kids are great. The Hawaii one? What can I say, he lives in Hawaii and skis only once a year.

I thought immediately that Snowdrop is heading in that direction. Twice now I've taken her skiing, with a year's break in between. Oh, she's making progress alright. At a snail's pace.

For those of you who don't know Wisconsin's topography -- we do have hills of a reasonable (if perhaps modest) size. And we have skiing facilities. Limited, but running the range, from green to black trails. What Snowdrop and her family do not have is time. And motivation: since her parents do not ski, it's not a family activity, and so the idea of skiing gets pushed to the side. You might ask -- why doesn't at least her mom ski -- after all, that's my daughter we're talking about. Well, I did take her skiing a few times, and she went with groups of friends as well, but it's an expensive sport and my then husband was not a winter sports guy, so it never caught on.

After Snowdrop's days with Matthieu in Saint Martin de Belleville, I decided I need to take on this project at home: get the girl on skis at least a couple of times here, in Wisconsin.

Then came the weather issues. That we have no snow is not necessarily an impediment. Snow making machines are standard on ski slopes. But honestly, it's been too cold! And I have just one day in the week when she is with me without Sparrow (who believe me, is not a champion of winter sports). To say nothing of her other evening activities -- ballet, violin, Shakespeare. Where's the free time exactly? All good intentions slipped away.

Until today.

I don't care that it's still, well, kind of cold. (High of 21F/-6C) She has a clean day. No activities. Sparrow is not with us today. It's now or never.

 

The day begins slowly. I'm thinking about, reading about people and cats. Let's first consider the easier of the two: cats.

When I head out to feed the animals, I see that the chickens are out of their barn shelter. They're not happy with the cold, but I suppose the slight upswing in temps is a good motivator to start roaming. Even though it can be a painful trek through the snow and icy paths.

The cats are more adept at navigating winter terrain. And they do navigate it: they're all out this morning. And they're primed for confrontation. Tuxie, the sweetest little girl from the sheep shed, is nearly always a target: she has been chased and clobbered by nearly all of them. Why? This gentle spirit deserves a cuddle not a clobber.

I talk abou the cat squabbles over breakfast.

Ed shrugs. It's cat dynamics: one minute they chase each other and get into a brawl, the next they're rubbing cheeks. 

I've never seen Tuxie chase anyone. She's always the one who is bullied by the rest! Lately she has been trying to come to the farmhouse porch, closer to where we hang out -- always to be snarled at and chased out by the others.

Ed is nonplussed. It's just cats.

I know it's just cats! It's an aspect of cat behavior I dont happen to like. And because every negative comparison comes down to a reference to Hitler, I add -- it's just people behind the Nazi party, but I don't have to like or even tolerate the fact that there are Nazi supporters in this world.

Which of course brings me to Elon Musk, who does support the far right party in Germany. And don't tell me they are not Nazis -- if you do, I'll ask you to listen to this very smart and at the same time very funny 8 minute video, with a gifted link from me -- here. 

Did you watch it? I of course belong to that post war generation that grappled with how to talk about World War II and the Holocaust. It's interesting that in the video clip, we learn that Germany took on the burden of its past in a round the clock fashion. 24/7. I honestly did not feel that presence of its recent history the few times I visited Berlin. (I even wrote about this on Ocean.) I thought it had moved on much more than my own country had. The slogan oft repeated in the video -- "Never Again" -- was in fact plastered all over my classroom walls. In Polish. It was the only classroom decoration. We did not put aside our memories of the war, albeit we were selective in the way we remembered it. We left out details.

Can you see how it rattles a postwar Polish born person, to see Musk giving a Nazi salute, or to hear Vance admonishing the German nation for hesitating to give fascists a seat at the table? To hear that Russian aggression on Ukrainian soil was somehow the fault of the Ukrainians? Where were you two in the 1940s and 1950s anyway? Oh, I see. Not born yet. Birthdays in the 1970s and 1980s. You naive, insensitive fools. (And that's being kind.)

 

The sun is out. I pack up some foods to nourish a hungry Snowdrop and I drive over to pick her up after school. From there, we are off to Tyrol Basin. Just 29 minutes from her school!

This is a hill for Madisonians who want to keep up their ski habit. I signed Snowdrop up for a lesson and by 3:30-ish, she is on the slopes.

(one long magic carpet...)

 

 (down an empty slope)

 

I suppose I could have skied as well, but it really is a bit nippy out there and a ride up on a chair lift is not my idea of fun right now. Even though it is completely empty. I'd have the hills virtually to myself. Still, I'm not committed to going back to the sport. It's risky. I'm not sure it's worth it. I dont need a second busted knee, or a broken rib from a hellishly out of control snowboarder. So I wait inside. 

 

(dusk on the slopes)

 

(done and happy!)

 

 

I ask her on the drive home how her lesson here compares to the ones in France. (From my own observations, it looked like her instructor today pushed her less, though definitely paying attention to technique. Both French guys were all about having her do more, shrugging off her hesitation.)

She tells me all were fine, but Matthieu from Saint Martin de Belleville, was her favorite. So funny and playful! We had snowball fights! 

We drive home after sunset. The landscape west of Madison is gently hilly and the snow cover from last week's snowfalls looks absolutely lovely in the fading light. Even Snowdrop is enchanted!

 

At home I come back to my now defrosted fish. The cats lick their chomps in delighted anticipation. They're on their best behavior. Manipulative felines! Ah well, you were all feral once. I suppose it stays with you, even when you're in a warm house, with comfy cushions and dishes piled with salmon skins!

with love...

 

what we have

Just a few days ago, that post title may have read "what we have lost." Maybe I would have added, for clarity "what we have lost in America." Today? I have a wealth of headings that come to mind: the one that I gave you, with perhaps this addition, for clarity: "what we have in America." Or "the other side." No, not "the other side of the ocean" (remember when that was the name of this blog?) but "the other side of America." Or, looking at it from another angle, I could have revived the well known saying "if it bleeds it leads."

You've been reading a lot I'm sure, in the press and in the comments of a frustrated public. About Congress's limp response to Musk/Trump bulldozing of America. How ostensibly the Democrats are wallowing in their election debacle, seemingly at a loss as to how to react. And, of course, the news feeds have been full of stories about Musk/Trump arrogance, plundering, destroying, gleefully taking control of a country that was once considered a shining example of democratic governance. So of course, you're left with the feeling that we no longer are who we once were, or at least wanted to be. I've written about it here: it's easy to feel ashamed, on the world stage for sure, at home -- even more so. How could we let this happen?

But this morning I'm thinking about that other side. And in support of this perspective, let me reintroduce you to Andy Borowitz -- an author, a humorist -- someone who happens to write from that "other side," and whose newsletter cheers me up and makes me laugh every single morning (I highly recommend subscribing to him -- you can pay, or you can read him for free -- just look for the Borowitz Report). Today he writes about the greatness of that other side. Politicians who are far more savvy and smart than, um, ones who are charging ahead with a wrecking ball. [You doubt this? Consider names such as Jamie Raskin, AOC, Katie Porter, Adam Kinzinger, Liz Warren, Beto O'Rourke, Pete Buttigieg, JB Pritzker, Gretchen Whitmer, Letita James, Raphael Warnock, David Hogg, Chris Murphy, Stacy Abrams, oh I could keep adding! Which political party should be trembling right now -- the one with mostly grumpy old white men who can't stand up to an autocrat, along with their side kick -- screaming Marjorie Taylor Greene, or the one with these sharp as a whistle new generation politicians on the other side?]

No matter what your politics, you have to recognize this truly American strength: our form of governance allows for strong leaders to emerge across the spectrum. We really are a nation of states. And it's too easy to forget that there is a lot of Democrat talent out there -- brilliant talent, that's not hiding in the bushes. Again, don't read this as a propaganda piece -- I'm not pushing an ideology here, but simply pointing out that we do have very smart, very strong people working in support of a constitutional democracy. The headlines don't remind us of it. So I will.

You gotta love a guy like Jamie Raskin (Maryland Congressman), who is quoted as saying --  Given that I was marching at age three, you know I’m not letting any coup-plotting, election-denying, insurrection-supplying autocrat, kleptocrat, plutocrat or theocrat, or any techno-feudalist Silicon Valley broligarch aspiring dictator, turn me around now. I am going to honor and participate every day in this urgent national fight for strong constitutional democracy, personal freedom and social progress. 

It makes me proud.

And, too, it makes me smile.

 

As does the weather: we are starting the climb up. Still in freezing territory. It's going to be a slow climb. But it is a climb!

 

The morning goes quickly. Breakfast, with Ed, during which we discuss how little we know about the future (this is perhaps a positive: it is not a given that we will topple under the weight of what is happening).

Dance participates: she reminds us that tulips are awesome!

And I spend the rest of the morning Zooming with Bee. She makes me appreciate what it means to be a European, let alone Polish right now. You have to feel their pain as our leadership is charmed by Putin. Putin! How utterly stupid can you be!

 

In the afternoon I pick up the kids...

... and yes, if it's Wednesday it must be ice cream day. The weather notwithstanding.

 

All goes well until it's time to fix dinner. The fish didn't defrost, so I reach for eggs, scramble them up, with mushrooms, and a salad, and I call it a meal. What can I say -- you can't be on top of everything in your day. Some things must slide. Though I have to say -- our hens lay fantastically wonderful eggs!

with love...

time to change

Funny how you can love new things, yet hate to change old habits. That's my thought for this morning. Here's what lead me to it:

I get up very early and it is very cold. As in very many degrees below freezing. Perhaps the coldest day of the year. Nonetheless, the wind chills did not hit the magic mark of -30F (-34C), so schools remained open. Still, when I go out to feed the animals at sunrise, I feel the sharp needles of freezing air hit my face. Yep, cold.

And yet, the cardinal is up on the crab, singing away.

I am in a hurry: I have an 8am PT appointment. I'm back with my post knee replacement surgery super hero -- David (the therapist). David guided me through the exercises nearly two years ago and as a result of his expert help, I can now bend that darn knee almost fully (he remains impressed by this!). When my doc said I needed therapy for my other, non-replaced knee, I did not sign up for just anyone -- I wanted David. I had to wait four months for an appointment, but it was worth it! The guy is a walking bank of knowledge on the human body.

But this is not why I am just tickled to pieces by today's visit: sure, I get my knee exercises set up, sure I will do them to postpone any surgical work on my second knee. But while there, I ask him as well if he ever worked with people who have what I have -- occipital neuralgia. (It's when your head nerves are inflamed so you have all sorts of unwelcome head issues.) And he has! Well now, forget the knee (for the moment)! How do I get rid of this incredibly annoying and persistent problem? David tells me -- try the lazy way first: just change your reading/writing habits.

He takes a ball -- the size of a soccer ball -- and has me hold it. It's weighted at ten pounds. That's close to the weight of your head. Heavy, right? You lean it forward and you're putting a lot of pressure on your neck and head muscles, which in turn pinch your nerves. Hence the occipital neuralgia.

It took my hero PT guy to explain how to better position myself for a life without weird head sensations. I felt buoyed! I felt jubilant! Suddenly an unsolvable problem appears to have a fantastically simple  solution! 

Until I come home and try changing my habits. 

It should be simple, really. All I have to do is not bend my head forward (which I do to read and write on my laptop). So, lift the computer, maybe get a separate keyboard for it. Just don't look down.  Easy peasy, right?

Oh god is it hard! It's as if my whole body is yearning for that laptop to be ... on my lap! I want it there, not up high (so that I can keep my head on top of my spine where it belongs). Why couldn't we have evolved to conform to life's new demands (of a lap top on your lap!)? 

I tell Ed that the problem is with sitting on a couch and leaning forward. He considers this. In the evening he suggests rearranging the furniture so that the second lesser couch is against a wall. That way I can prop up a pillow to support my head. The cats hate this new furniture arrangement (they do not like change). The kids wont like it much either (they do not like change) when they see it tomorrow. But I'm giving it a go. It is worth it. (And if you dont want to pinch your nerves or aggravate them, heed David's warning -- keep that head straight, eyes forward, none of this leaning down on your neck!

 

Breakfast is very late. After my PT, I had to wash the car. Normal people do not do this when it is so very cold, but that's exactly why I was at the car wash -- there were no lines. 

And I picked up some treats at Tati's coffee shop and Ed and I have a lovely breakfast that still fits within the parameters of a morning meal. But just barely.

In the afternoon I go off to pick up the kids. Sparrow tells me -- I didn't recognize your car! It's usually so dirty! Hey, blame the salty roads, little guy!

Yes, it's cold. They seem not to notice it. Kids...

We read. Sparrow abandons his pretense of indifference and joins Snowdrop and me on the couch. Snowdrop, as usual, cannot stand not knowing the ending. She peeks. I remind her I don't want to know! She tells me anyway.

Is there anything as great as reading books together with kids? On a freezing day?

And in the evening I once again bring out the leftovers. Chicken, sliced into a salad. And, as I said -- we move around furniture. And pillows for support. Easy fixes... Dont you just wish there were always easy fixes out there for life's intractable problems...

with love...