New look, same blog

Yup, it's the same blog - I just fancied it up a bit. I love it.

It's getting to be that time. I should get back to work, but I'm tired. The fog is still here, and it brings to mind a scary thing mom used to say when it was foggy outside. "Nice night for a murder," she'd say, pulling the kitchen curtain aside and peering out into the night. What a kidder.

Funny, mom really didn't laugh much. She preferred horror shows above all else, and I never could figure that out.

That's the way I used to feel. Now, though, I think I finally understand why.

Wondering about things on an early Tuesday morning

Fog today, and the chill goes to the bone even though it's in the mid-30s. At 6 in the morning, though, that's not bad in mid-March.

I was thinking about family birthdays (our youngest will turn 32 this month), and I realized that it doesn't seem all that long ago when I was his age.

And that brought up another memory - that was about how old I was when I saw my dad for the first and last time.

We'd taken our oldest on his second birthday to see his grandpa. Clint was a happy two-year-old, checking out everything in dad's house, having a blast being in a place that was new and exciting. Hubby and dad had a beer or two together and chatted for quite a while. I, on the other hand, wasted the entire time sniffling on the couch - I couldn't seem to stop the tears. I'm kind of mushy that way.

It had been hubby's idea. He wanted me to see my dad, and I really believe it's because he had a normal childhood (and by normal I mean having a mom, dad and siblings who all got along - at least most of the time).

He knew that mom, sis and I had struggled over the years just to eat and stay warm and he didn't want me to hold that against anyone, least of all one of my parents.

He was right.

When parents divorce, and the one you end up with does nothing but speak badly about the other, it's too easy to build up bitterness, mistrust and anger toward the absent parent. I wish mom hadn't done that, and it didn't help that her siblings jumped at every opportunity to do the same. Who knows what kind of relationship I missed out on simply because grudges were born and held for decades?

Anyway, I eventually did find out when my dad passed away (though I didn't get that information until nearly a year afterward), but I forgot when he was born. I'll have to go back to the obituary to find out.

And the reason I want to know? I think it's important to send up a prayer of thanks because without both dad and mom, I wouldn't be here and although my childhood was too often a nightmare, I survived and I love my life and most of the people in it.

Ugh, it's that time of year again - DST

Why? Can someone explain why we need Daylight Savings Time to start early?
It was bad enough we started the whole thing in the first place, but last year there was an experiment to see how much energy we could save by beginning this awful practice early and ending it late.
I'll tell you something, I haven't been the same since the weekend. Sunday flew by, Monday I was so sleepy I couldn't see straight, and today my motivation is out the window. I desperately need to take a nap, but don't feel I can afford it.
The column had to be written, and there are three articles to get to, and I'm thrilled the column is indeed finished.
It was easy to write the piece once I realized that my mind has been stuck somewhere in the past for the past few days.
There's a wedding picture of my mom and dad that hangs on the wall in the foyer alongside the stairs. I got to thinking about them the other day, got out a folder with some notes I've taken over the years (with the thought of using it in my memoir). Reading about our days in Sheffield, mom's illness, her side of the family, and looking at pictures stirred up feelings that had to be put down on paper. I will add those notes to the originals, and put something together in a week or so.
Maybe being tired and introspective isn't such a bad thing. Some memories are comforting, and those are the ones I plan to visit.
Gotta go. Time for a nap.

Fixing the house and waiting for spring

It's hard coming up with a topic for this week's newspaper column. Of course, I could write about the dog - most of the readers seem to love hearing about Sarah Jane, but she hasn't done anything remotely stupid over the past few days. I'm sure she'll come up with something soon, though.

Looks like a shopping trip coming up in a few days, and, as usual, I'll spend my time in Barnes & Noble. I'd live there if they'd let me. Coffee, treats, books, magazines, music - what's not to love?

We're still working on the house. I should say that hubby is doing most of the work, now that he's retired, and I *go* to work - finally at a job I love. The people are fantastic; they're friendly, compassionate, smart and funny.

We're waiting, somewhat impatiently, for our friends to return from Florida. They seem to have found something there, and I remember one couple telling us that there are a lot of Kewanee people living there year-round. We lived in Arizona for over six years, and I wasn't thrilled. Hubby and the kids loved it; I hated it. But Florida sounds colorful, and of course, there are the beaches, something Arizona lacked.

We'll see. It depends on the housing market in our area, which really hasn't been too awful. There is still quite a bit to do to get the place ready, but we're getting there.

Time to move? Maybe.

Here it is, the 7th of March, and we're still waiting for a break in the weather. Oh, we had a taste of what 50 degrees feels like a few days ago, but it seems like a distant memory now. We've really had it this winter; it's hung on too long, our power bills are through the roof and places like Florida and Arizona are sounding like Heaven.

Maybe it's time for the good life - balmy breezes, sunshine, joining friends who've already experienced warm winter months instead of week after week after never-ending week of frigid temps and howling winds.

Even the dog doesn't much care for the cold and the snow.

Yup, it's time to start looking. Life's too short to spend this many days holed up in a house that never seems to get warm enough.