Up close and personal, the view from my kitchen window.
One of the books my father enjoyed was "Don't get perkonal with a chicken." It's not as much fun to say things like that when there's no one to recognize its significance. So, like, when I say perkonal, no one knows what I mean.

My sister's birthday was yesterday. One is really supposed to say "Yesterday was my sister's birthday," I think. I play with phrases, too much when I write.

I got to talk to her last night. There's always something sweet and reassuring about talking to a sister (or brother, but I can't do that anymore). I talk to my mother often, so talking to her isn't such a treat. Besides, she's my mother--so much, so way different. Anyway, Mary (who know that was her real name? She has no middle name. Family lore is that, because my parents lived in West Virginia when she was born, everyone asked "Mary what? Mary Lou? Mary Alice? Mary Jane?," so my father, proprietary about his childrens' names, decided it should just be Mary. Does Mary mind that she has no middle name?) says she's now in her 60th year. I'm not far behind--there was 22 months between each child in my family. Coincidence? who knows, my mother used to tell us that, almost boastfully. Anyway, for part of the year my sister is one year older than I am, for most of it she's 2 years older. So how do I feel about having a sister who's in her 60th year? Not bad, but a bit intimidated. I don't want to get older, (though, as they say, it beats the alternative) (don't I use parentheses a lot?) but if I get just a little bit older I might be able to stop working.

We moved a lot when we were kids (no, I don't mean we moved a lot, like dancing all the time or something) (there I go with the paren. again) and something like that does a lot to define who you become. My brother was always a friend when we were new in town, but my sister and I were best friends. Or so I like to believe. We always had each other, to walk to the new school with; to climb the mulberry tree with; to play with our plastic horses with--boy that filled an incredible number of hours; to make the dachshund jump over the broomstick so we could pretend he was a horse; and lots and lots of other things. But never reading. She read, I didn't. I was jealous of the printed word. Ironic now, isn't it. Then there was the year she begged, and begged and begged to have a concrete wall built to divide the bedroom we shared. I was devastated, of course, knowing how much I'd miss her, and suffering greatly at such rejection. My mother's excuse was that it was a rented house so we couldn't do something like that. HAH! My sister saw right through that one. I was too relieved to think anything else. When we finally bought a house and had separate bedrooms, I missed my sister. Later in life we didn't like each other at all--imagine how good I felt when she told me that she didn't like me at all & didn't want to be my sister when we were in high school. I'd felt the same way about her. Ah, secrets of the past. My mother used to tell us that, no matter what we said or felt at the moment, she knew we loved each other. Of course that's always been true.

I'm at work, where the 2 fish tanks are in front of me. One has 4 male guppies--one of each primary color and one left over from the guppy population explosion I had at home. The colorful guppies are very flashy and have big tails. The homemade guppy is sort of grayish-invisible, with a big but not flashy tail. He's about 1/3 the size of the others--I call him Little Man. And there's Blue Man, of course, and Red and Yellow Guy. The other tank has 2 big goldfish in it. Twice a goldfish has jumped out of the tank to its death. The first landed on the floor, the 2nd landed splat on my chair seat. I have a water pump in the bigger tank, and hear the sound of running water all day. It's nice and is a truer sound than the white noise of the heating system.

Since I'm at work, I have to get going on our 2010 Department Goals. There are only 2 of us in the department now so it's easier and more peaceful to do this. Plus the goals can't be quite as lofty. hey lofty.

What I get to look at on my way to work. Note the snot ice on the left. Snot ice is called that because, of course, it's the color of snot (well, some people's snot I guess). It's a sign of spring--I saw some really green snot ice the other day and it cheered me immensely. It's not particularly attractive to anyone who doesn't know what it portends.

Whose chair this is I think I know ...
Sometimes being sloppy and lazy pays off--I never put away my Adirondack chair, so now it's a wonderful sculpture.

s'no day

This is what they do after a hard day's work in deep snow. They're a great help--they make paths in the heavy snow. One to the bird feeder (must chase squirrels before eating sunflower seeds rejected or dropped by birds)--and that's a good one, very packed down and pretty wide. Another to get under the house--this path is a godsend to Kittie, since she likes using a litter box about as much as I like having one in the house. The ground is bare naked under the house. Sometimes I feel like crawling under there just to smell wet dirt. Mud is not wet dirt, wet dirt smells like spring. Another path goes past the burn barrel (I know, not legal to burn trash, but is it better to send it to the landfill? I only (mostly) burn paper), down to the woods, where they like to poop in private, and pee, getting their hoo-hoos wet when they squat. Another path goes down the driveway, where they run every time they think a) the bogeyman is coming, or b) someone fascinating who loves dogs is coming. Neither is true, most of the time. They bark every time the snow plow comes.

I can just see the blinking yellow lights of the plow through the trees from the deck. I can hear its rumbling as I sit in the living room. The town plowman is a wonderful man named Lee. Lots of times last names are irrelevant. Anyway, Lee also drives for the woman I buy firewood from, so he knows plenty about me. What I know about him isn't much: that he's a kind man who knows how to get to my house and knows that I need to leave for work early, so he plows the road at an early hour. He also knows my dogs, and how much firewood I have and where it's piled. The man who plows my driveway, named Donny because his father is Don, comes a little late sometimes, but he's very reliable. As opposed to other plowmen I've had. Donny came yesterday and we had our usual plow-time visit. Each time we talk we end by saying "It's a wonderful neighborhood, isn't it."

The neighborhood consists of an area of about maybe 10 square miles, with maybe 15 or so year-round residents. The population explodes in the summer, and we all enjoy our summer company (they are some of my best friends). It's a biannual adjustment: from no neighbors to lots of neighbors, from no cars on my road to lots of cars on my road. Ken and I always talked about it, around Memorial Day we'd say "Time for the crowds to come. Won't be long before there will be a lot of people here." After Columbus Day we'd say "Now it's just us." I think I live a nearly-perfect life. Even when I have no water I can enjoy my lifestyle. Donny once said "Well ... when you live alone and you're lonely ... " I never corrected him to say I'm NEVER lonely. I figure it's a good investment to have him think that, even though I don't like to have anyone think of me that way.

at least it's february

This is what it looks like from my deck. Or at least it did yesterday. Actually, the landscape doesn't change much once it looks like this; the snow falls off of the tree limbs, that's all.

who's she?

Favorite beach--RI Valentine's Day visit

Ferry in Galillee

Mark--snow on the rocks

Mark, snow on the beach

OK, so I got a call yesterday from a good friend & she asked "Do you still live there?" She kindly pointed out that my blog is stuck in early Jan., and I never posted any Christmas pictures. Well, the Christmas pictures are pretty old,but I was in RI for Valentine's Day, so maybe I'll post some of those pictures. I had a good time, Mark & I walked the dogs on 2 beaches & had a contest to see who could find the best scallop shells. It must have been a tie. It was nice but windy and cool. The promise of bare ground was broken--there had been a storm prior to my arrival. I'm returning in mid-March for my mother's 84th birthday--again the promise of bare ground. Bet I'll be ready for it by then--we're supposed to have a storm this week, but it's too early to know how much snow, according to our inept meteorologist. Who is a jerk and (as M pointed out) can only say "nor-thurrn" instead of using the more commonly used "northern." Wish M hadn't pointed this out to me because now it drives me crazy, too.

Life progresses. I've been well, though have slipped into my winter depression (this is beyond the doldrums, or being shack-wacky--this is the "I can't get up off the couch or wake up" syndrome). My house is a mess (I can hear the responses--"yeah, like that's unusual"). Is it really necessary to use so many "quotation marks?" Anyway, my winter has gone pretty well. Amazing what a difference a clean stovepipe and dry wood stored in the woodshed make. Wow. My stove gets warm, my living room isn't 53 degrees (well, sometimes, but I can get it up to 63 or so, which is pretty toasty for 58 OHR).

I've seen friends this month--my friends from the camp down the hill from my house were here. Boys from Mass., Minn., Calif. They're great and I got to have dinner with them twice. And talk to Duncan every night. These are wonderful people.

The Holts were here for the weekend and took me to a fundraiser for our wonderful new Congressman. It was something, all right. Held at an exclusive Lake Placid landmark. I knew no one until I spotted a librarian from SUNY, who (whom?) I've known a long time--since Jamie's fly-tying classes in the 80's. And I chatted with the library's mailman, who was there representing the letter carriers' union. Passed out many compliments. Kidded around with a nice man from Schenectady until I realized he was a Congressman, then felt foolish. There were 4 Congresspeople there, including Rush. They all spoke at dinner, of course. Dinner, ahhh, after appetizers like tuna, venison sausage, chicken Satay. Actually, the food wasn't as great as I expected. rats. No, the food wasn't rats. I sat across from the owner and spent most of the time talking to her. Did you know that you can make fake, low-cal coconut cream pie, using a low-fat Jello pudding cup sprinkled with coconut, mixed in with coconut extract and sprinkled on top with crushed graham crackers? well now you do. Other topics were the usual dog, cat, weather, etc. stories. Except when the owner told me ad nauseum that there aren't any age-appropriate books for her 8- and 10-year olds. And that we should have all books labeled so that no one would read an inappropriate book. And that one of our best libraries is too noisy. Aside from that, I enjoyed talking with her and she kept saying "EXACTLY!" when I said something she agreed with.

Work has been fine, except for the past week, when my colleague was on a cruise and I did her work. Yeowie is there a lot of running around and checking books in & out, putting things on delivery shelves, sorting things out when the delivery comes in. not pleasant for an elderly asthmatic.

I've been pedaling on a stationary bike and walking on the treadmill we have here. We chipped in together (as opposed to apart?) & bought the t'mill. I've been better than anyone would have expected--working on it every day for at least 15 min. I can read while doing either activity so time passes quickly. OK, not quickly, but it's not bad. I was reading our book group book, which was a really sucky book, but now I can move on to something I'll enjoy. So far my pants are still too tight and my asthma is still bad, but I'll keep it up. I almost enjoy it.

Dogs are fine. Chances is showing her age--her vision is getting worse, she has trouble jumping up on the bed, but she's a sweetie. Tess is spunky (what a stoopid word) and still likes to lie on top of me while we watch NCIS repeats. My mother really likes these 2 dogs and takes great care of them when I'm there. Spoils them, actually.

We've had cold weather but now we're having great temps, 20's & 30's. False hope of approaching spring? perhaps. But I ordered flower seeds, and am getting ready to plant them. In March, I hope.

Bill is keeping up with the Sunday noon tradition, sans dinner. Good snacks, wine, good visits with the regulars. I visit Ken's niece & her husband, who live next door to K's house, stopping on my way home from work as I did with Ken. We like tradition in Hawkeye.

I have nothing exciting or startling to report. I think about retirement but try not to be one who puts x's on calendars, counting down the days. I'm hoping for early retirement in 4 years, so I have plenty of time left. Plenty of projects, lots of things about my job to enjoy.

And life goes on. If you were expecting something fascinating I apologize. It's winter, you know.