Old clothes

Some things, I just can't throw away. And while I have held on to a few pieces of clothing that I've had since high school, this sweatshirt, purchased my freshman year of college, is one of my favorite "oldies". Mr. Bubble makes me happy. If you can't read it, it says "Makes getting clean almost as much fun as getting dirty." Almost.

Memory Lane

I don't have any pets at the moment. I'd like to, but I guess I'm not ready for any sort of commitment right now.
Here's Michael:
The picture is from my place in Brooklyn, looking out over the back yard and the neighbors' houses. Michael was a hoot. He was part dog and would come running when you called his name. He'd get over half way to you, then detour at the last moment, right when he remembered he was a cat.

Here's Gracie:
Gracie is still alive, but living with the ex. She's the sweetest little pit bull mutt that you'd ever want to meet. She used to sit in my lap (on the floor, she wasn't allowed on the sofa). Not too smart, but such a kind dog. After the September 11th attacks I didn't make it home until late morning on the 12th. Gracie had been stuck in the house for well over 24 hours. When I let her out into the back yard so that she could go pee, she wouldn't leave my side. I miss her.

A case of the crazies

When life starts crashing in around me, I tend to slink away. When I don't get away, and create time for myself, then I really start to feel like I'm going crazy. Well, I've felt on the brink, as it were, for a couple of weeks now, and have been trying to ignore it in hopes that the feeling would go away. Funny how that never seems to work. I guess that part of the problem is that I don't want to burden those around me with all the crapola swirling around in my head, so it just stays in there. And I am struggling with a lot right now. And most of it is hard to put into words. And I know that given a little more time, I will wrestle it to the ground and win over the crazies. In the meantime, today I got one step closer to winning the battle.

I made it out to Kickapoo State Park to go hiking. I suppose that I'm not the brightest bulb on the string because, while I knew that there would be tons of beautiful snow, I didn't really consider that the 14" of snow (plus drifting) that we got here, would also be the case at the park. (duh.) The smart people wore cross country skis. I was the only human foot tracks in the forest. On the plus side, that means that I had plenty of time to myself. The air was cold and brisk, the sun was shining, and there was glorious silence. There was also laughter from the sledders, snippets of conversations from the cross country skiers, birds calling out from overhead, and the sweet sound of my hiking boots sinking down so far into the snow that I was covered in the white stuff up to my knees. So now I'm thinking that next time I go out on a day like this, I might tie tennis rackets to my boots. Or rent snow shoes. Whatever.

snow, Snow SNow SNOW

It just keeps piling up! The wind is awesome. The kids are home for a snow day, thank goodness. Even if I had been able to get them to school, I never would have been able to make it back to pick them up. I just heard that we've had only about 12 inches, with another 1-3 expected before the wind dies down, but it's the drifting that's causing me the greatest headache. Backache, actually. Given that I normally enjoy shoveling, this might be the only time I'll ever wish that I had kept the snow blower in the divorce.

from my son

from my son, originally uploaded by Jen!!.

personal note to go with picture: my son (7) wrote this to me probably two months ago. Since he lives with me part time, on the days when he's not here, the note is a sweet reminder of him. It's in my kitchen, so I see it every day. Also in my kitchen is a prayer (if you will) that I read every day as well, and have for probably 4 or 5 years now: "I was angered for I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no feet." During the rough times in my marriage, when I felt like no matter how hard I tried I just wasn't doing well enough--not loving enough, not generous enough, simply not enough --whatever it was that I was believing was wrong with me (and always wrong with me, never wrong with him--oh wait, this shit is supposed to go in my private blog. sorry.), anyhow, the prayer helped to keep me focused on all the wonderful gifts in my life.

My little birdy

We haven't had much snow so far this winter, so when we got about 3" two weeks ago, the kids were outside in a flash to have a snowball fight and build a snowman. The snowman turned out more like a short, stout snow ghost, but it's pretty cute. You can see it on Flickr here. It had melted a little already when Jasper added the raisin eyes, nose, mouth and buttons, but it wasn't so much bigger to begin with. I love snow.