5 Things Recommended for 2/22/2019
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Today, at the height of the sun, it’s 7 degrees Fahrenheit.
Trapped in the house, my husband, Joe trolls the internet planning the spring planting of a friend’s garden. He is avoiding doing the taxes. Can’t blame him. I write, not in my study where the 100-year-old windows invite the chill air, but in the psychological warmth of our kitchen. The dogs dawdle around aimlessly, nipping out for a quick turn around in the yard, chasing the squirrels who raid the bird feeders shamelessly.
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This holiday season has been a reminder that I am, indeed, mortal. On the evening of Thursday, December 6, as we were finishing dinner, my nose began to drip. Loading up on Emergence-C and mucinex, I went to bed early. I blasted the humidifier and said a prayer or two. Friday as we drove to Cape Cod to celebrate our son’s birthday I believed a cold had been averted. But not so.
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I hated this painting so I’m doing something radical with it.
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When it comes to being a parent there are times when I feel utterly powerless. And as my “children” become “emerging adults” (not even “young adults” anymore) my feeling of redundancy is even more intense.
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