Monday, February 22, 2021


Who expects visitors during these crazy days?

I'll tell you you who does not expect visitors during these crazy days.

I do not expect visitors during these crazy days..

And yet . .. . 

What a joy it was to have Dorothy and Dorothy's Jim-Jim stop by yesterday . . . 

Dorothy entertained us all with her Wizardry . . . 

. . . and Mistah had a fire going out there . . .

. . . I tried to stay away from the smoke because I had just shampooed. 

What? Be quiet. Shampooing is hard work.

And we were all focused on Dorothy's Wizardry anyway.

Jim-Jim stayed up above, high and dry, like any smart person 
would . . . 

. . . while I shoveled snow off the tables down low. Naturally. 

And once again, Mistah was represented solely by one, lowly, incorrectly-lighted cellphone selfie.

But we didn't care. Because yesterday was all about the Wizardry.

Monday, February 15, 2021

More More of the Same

Remember More of the Same?  

I cannot quite believe I so blithely thought talking about More of the Same would seem repetitive. I mean, we had flowers then . . . we had green!

We are completely okay and fine and healthy and relatively sane around here -- and we are so thankful for that.

But our current More of the Same? . . . 

Well . . .   

It's been a snowy winter so far . . . 

. . . the snow's been lovely, yes, but we do seem to be getting an awful lot of it . . .

. . . but still, it's been gorgeous . . . 
. . . even though we've not quite been able to make a fire.

But all this being inside business? 

Well, that's starting to get old. More of the Same, you might say.

But still, it does have its advantages . . . 
. . . and some of them are hilariously awesome.

Coraggio, peeps.

Monday, February 8, 2021

The Muffled Hush

 My great and glorious friend Hsinny posted about yesterday's storm and wondered what it is that makes a snowstorm so magical.

Maybe, she said, it's "the muffled hush" that accompanies it.

I love that.

We had a snowstorm yesterday that is the stuff that snowstorms are made of. A snowstorm that people not from New England think it's always like when we get snow. A snowstorm from an imaginary, snowstorm place in some great snowgoddess' imagination.

It was that kind of snowstorm.

Every branch was covered, the world was quiet, the trees were anthropomorphically dancing . . . 

. . . some trees more than others . . . 

. . . and although yes, it was a monochromatic day out there . . .

. . .  there's always plenty of multichrome inside.

And today?

The world is a muffled hush in the sunshine.

Monday, February 1, 2021

Snow Day

Here in the Northeast, in the US of A, we are forecast to get a boatload of snow dumped upon us over the course of the day -- 8 to 14 inches, by the sound of it.

I was hoping to wake up to a foot already on the ground, with that pervading socked-in quiet that is distinctly unique to a snowstorm.

Alas, only a couple of inches have accumulated so far, and the snow is falling in light swirly circles.

But hey. A snowstorm is a snowstorm is a Snow Day, and I'll take it.

I will read.

I will roast cauliflower.

I will make soup.

I will make baba ganoush and hummus.

I will race to the window every time the snow plow drives down the street then backs out.

Here's a Before photo of the zen rocks on the picnic table, so we can compare and contrast After. Because who doesn't love to Compare and Contrast? I do, that's who.

And here's a Before photo of the Tree and the Field because who doesn't love the Tree and the Field? I do, that's who.

Happy Snowstorm, everybody.

Happy Snow Day.