The Discontent Part of the Winter Gig




I have grown weary of the snow. We had to have the driveway plowed yesterday. Luckily the roads were in decent shape so I could get Oakley to day care, run errands, and so on.

Today began with about two fresh inches, enough to fill in foot- and paw prints in the back yard. We can still get out if need be. Tomorrow night starting at 6 PM we will be under a winter weather watch with another possible nine  inches en route.

All the basic needs are met, so we don’t have to worry too much. It’s just aggravating when I have to reschedule my whole life due to storms. One self care appointment; one long hoped-for lunch; one making myself available to run an errand for a friend who’s her husband’s primary caregiver. I don’t just mind it; I resent the hell out of it.

It wasn’t always this way. There’s a not so soft voice in my head that reminds me about my love for winter. She sounds like a college-aged me. Back then, even the four spent on the shore of Lake Superior were easier because I could walk almost everywhere.

Now, not so much. A walk to the corner grocery two miles from me is doable in theory, but in practice a really bad idea. The road provides an alternative to the major east-west US route that bisects the town proper.  Except for the T-junctions at the railroad tracks and the river, there are no stop signs between here and town. Some misinterpret that as a sign to leave traffic laws and common courtesy in the dust. Many of them see bike riders, horses, and walkers as targets for some perverse game of pedestrian bingo. Once I tried to walk to the farm stand around the corner from my house, but because of inconsiderate drivers, I bailed mid-trip. Almost getting flattened by someone going 75 miles per hour in a vehicle teetering on the edge between domestic and military use will do that to a person.

Even the pleasures of the hearth wear a bit thin on days like this. I really am in no mood to cook. I give thanks for the leftovers in the fridge. Oakley had day care yesterday. He spent the whole afternoon wrestling with his buddy Willy and chasing Sam, so he’s pretty tuckered out. Hubby is nursing the crud, but diligently studying anyway.

Me? I’m writing, obviously. This entry. Emails to both senators supporting their efforts to prevent 45’s latest nationalistic antics. Starting to think about the garden.

And dreaming of greener days ahead.




This Much I Believe

We have a storm creeping up from the southwest. It’s due to arrive late this afternoon. We ran out for a walk this morning. I already went shopping to make sure that we had the essentials such as biskies, tea, and chocolate.

I’m grateful I have that done. The impending predicted storm and preparations for tomorrow’s Super Bowl have joined forces in triggering an advanced case of guano-psychoisis.

The greater Chicago area, including the soybean field and points west, will get precipitation starting around 6pm-ish, emphasis on -ish. It will start as everyone’s favorite meteorological event, freezing rain, then switch to snow. We will be under a storm watch from 9 pm tonight (Saturday) until the same time tomorrow (Sunday). This mornings’ weather reports varied greatly in estimated totals ranging from 4″-8″ to up to an honest foot complicated by blowing and drifting.

This much I believe in spite of the currently blue sky with its deceptive thin overcast: that we will get snow. I believe that I will make sure my cell phone is charged should I have to bitch out notify Com Ed due to an outage. (For some perverse reason, we get power failures more frequently on sunny quiet weather days than days where the wind nearly took off the roof.)  I believe we may, or may not, have a significant amount when all is said and done. I believe Oakley and I will get out for another good walk before the predicted meteorological spaghetti his the fan.

I believe we’ll listen to Garrison Keillor; we’ll watch a good “International Mystery.”

And I believe that I’m going to have some chocolate.

Weathering the Weather

I think Cody the Small White Dog says it best: 

Woke up to a scant covering of snow, just enough to say that we received some, just enough to make early morning driving a growth experience. My sympathy is with friends in Minnesota who had to deal with frozen roads this morning and New England bracing for yet another meteorological butt-kicking. This is just ridiculous. 

It’s really bad when a person dreams of dandelions. Anything.

Anything that rises above the brown and white fields. 



Wednesday Musings

Another storm system waltzed through the Chicago/NW Indiana area last night. Knowing that this morning was going to be a cold wet mess, I dropped  Oakley off at day care yesterday instead of today. He played while I picked up the necessary and sufficient supplies. The snow arrived as I was picking him up and wove itself into a white blanket as we pulled up the driveway. I’m allowing myself the luxury of being a little self-congratulatory on my timing of last night’s ventures. 

Caputo’s had an insanely good price on organic broccoli yesterday–69 cents a pound. I stuffed a bag with it and made gluten free pasta with broccoli. Did I give the recipe? If I didn’t, this is how you do it: make paper-thin slices of 4-6 whole fresh garlic cloves and place them into a small frying pan with extra virgin olive oil and a good shake of red pepper flakes. Heat slo-o-o-w-w-w-ly and gently until you can smell the garlic. While that’s going on, break broccoli into florettes, and put them into your favorite pasta pot with plenty of water to cook them and the pasta (I used Tinkyada brown rice fettuccini). When the broccoli is good and cooked and the pasta’s done, drain–don’t rinse. The starch helps the oil and the broccoli bits stick to the pasta. Now, pour in the lovely garlic and pepper infused olive oil, and mix. I topped off mine with shredded Asiago cheese. Perfect antidote to the weather. Oh, and an orange for dessert. If you don’t or can’t do cheese, try some toasted chopped pecans or walnuts. 

This morning, the clouds have dissipated to a thin veil. Hubby and I will have leftover broccoli and pasta for lunch with strawberries for dessert. Oakley is napping, dreaming of his upcoming bonus day care day on Friday. I don’t know if he know that it’s going to be a spa day or not–he’ll be getting a bath and a nail trim then. 

We stay in the moment, yet we count the 42 days to spring.