A snowy day is a good day to put the kettle on or to make soup. There will be stuffed acorn squash for dinner. I’m thinking rice, pine nuts, and heirloom cranberry beans. Plus cheese!
Can you see K out there? Fluffy snow or no, he was glad to have a snow blower. There is A LOT of snow — at least eighteen inches. Under the snowy plowed roads, hides a skating rink. I fell flat on my ass walking Finn this morning — a real legs out, arms flailing cartoon-style fall. Two men clearing a neighbor’s drive came close — but not too close! — to show their concern. I gave them a thumbs up and continued on.
After a writing class where another contemporary scene set in Boulder spilled onto the page, I made cut outs.
And then noodled.
They’re like paper dolls. They’re reminiscent of Jane Maxwell’s work. But I’m gonna keep going with them until something new arrives.
This mouse — shame on her! — not wearing her mask properly.
Which reminds me — I had such an unpleasant experience at the Highlands post office yesterday — an encounter with a woman who just could not abide by the stickers on the floor. She was so weird about it. There was a glass entry door between her sticker and mine. After pushing past me to grab an envelope that she could have easily grabbed three minutes later when the line moved forward, she propped the door open on her hip, and stood there. Humming. She was three feet from me. It was senseless, aggressive rule-breaking. That’s when I shrieked that she wasn’t wearing a mask and I might’ve called her a fucking bitch. She slunk back and let the door close but couldn’t resist giving me a hostile Queen’s wave later out on the street. That’s when it occurred to me that she might be mentally ill.
Did I mention that covering her lower face was a single layer of some crap polyester organza? Not even a bandana!
Telling K about it later, I had to remind him that the stranger was the aggressive one and not me.
Ah well. Off to try felting up a fox head to go with the pretty orange silk party skirt on my mantel.
PS I meant to make the MAIL story include a delightful ornament gift from Nancy. Got distracted by grievance, I guess.
So let me end with gratitude. How glorious the gift that comes in the mail and surprises you. Thank you Nancy!
My sister’s glass collection catches the light. She died roughly this time last year. How grateful I am that she’s not here to panic and worry about the virus. She suffered from COPD, sleep apnea, asthma, CHF, and was on oxygen. Worse, because of her ever increasing need, people were constantly trooping through her apartment — sometimes five a week.
The entire time she lived in her subsidized housing (almost a year), she didn’t manage to trek down the hall to throw out any garbage. So, if she had dismissed everyone out of a rational fear of contagion, the garbage would’ve piled up in a matter of days, waiting for yours truly.
My brother refused to wear protective garb during the AIDS crisis, a decision both humane and medically supported in retrospect. It did make me worry, though, that maybe he wouldn’t wear protective gear for this crisis, either.
We are aggressively self-quarantining. K’s office got the order to work from home for two weeks. I have three things on Zoom this week.
Almost 3,000. That’s how many words I eliminated today. It’s incredibly satisfying to see the fat and cut it out.
When I posted a picture of this orchid on Instagram and said I had no idea what made it bloom (I know NOtHinG about these plants and it hadn’t bloomed for years), one follower said. “Probably because you needed it to.”
I wish for all of you to be well and maybe find a small miracle in your day.