We went from the sixties on Friday to really gray and cold yesterday. The pupsters stay snuggled up to me, and I am grateful for their warmth.
I tend to my house plants and frequently stand at the patio door looking out, watching the few birds venturing about.
The male cardinal is always a welcome sight with his pretty bright red feathers.
I can see this morning that I’m going to have to reduce my computer time because lately my wrists are tingling again like when I had carpal tunnel problems (I had bilateral carpal tunnel surgery 20 years ago, and do not want to go there again.)
A hot cup of coffee is welcome on these cold mornings. I take mine with a bit of sugar and Coffee Mate. How do you take yours? Or are you a tea drinker? I’ve never liked hot tea for some reason. But I adore iced tea.
Another thing I welcome and am grateful for is hearing the heat click on. Oh my, with no insulation in these apartments, I don’t know what I’d do without automatic heat. (Why on earth?)
I don’t want to clean when it is bitterly cold. You’d think my body would push me to move about to engineer warmth, some sort of primal urge that kept prior generations, way back when, alive.
However my cold is much different from their cold, because I live in modern society and have central heat and air. Even though the aid of insulation in the walls is certainly and woefully inadequate.
Our new manager, who now lives here at the complex but keeps her house with her husband in Dallas, said she figured out the lack of insulation really quick and began to reach for the blankets.
She visits her husband and her dog about two weekends a month. They are now empty nesters and this being apart much of the time, she said, is kind of like dating again.
Another welcome sight during these cold February days are my house plants. My nurturing of nature inside while I wait for spring so that I can enjoy nature outside.
One little pot of variegated ivy is fast losing its leaves. It’s too sad to show right now. Yesterday I put it in the bedroom, hoping the change of scenery, being closer to a window, might perk it up. That window is sort of my “plant hospital” where other plants are a bit sad.
I fight myself when it comes to watering. When the top is dry, I stick my finger down about an inch to see if there is deeper moisture underneath. I do tend to over water if I don’t catch myself.
And always welcome in my home are books. Books of all varieties.
This vintage box is filled with craft and decorating and other non-fiction books. No novels here. These are the books I select and thumb through on a whim.
Speaking of books, I finished “The Hope Chest” (I was literally crying at the end) last night, and began “This Is How It Always Is.” This last book is about a family with four boys, hoping this last pregnancy is a girl.
But it is another boy, and they name him Claude. Claude is extremely precocious.
From what I’ve read so far…
When he grows up, Claude says, he wants to be a girl.
I think both you and I can see where this is going.
I can already tell that this book is going to make me laugh and cry. Heavens, isn’t life hard enough without being born “different?”
“There’s a gender in your brain and a gender in your body. For 99 percent of people, those things are in alignment. For transgender people, they’re mismatched. That’s all it is. It’s not complicated, it’s not a neurosis. It’s a mix-up. It’s a birth defect, like a cleft palate.”
– Chaz Bono