Well, I got busy for real – not just watching reruns of American Pickers – and didn’t really have time to get back to this until today. I suppose I had time when I was sitting here late at night, too tired to get up and climb the stairs to bed, but anything I’d have written then would be a lot of whining about how tired I was. It was a good tired, though; I was being productive while I was being busy. Here is the part where I tell you all the boring stuff I’ve been up to while trying to work in weird words and phrases from the Winter Scavenger Hunt. Are you ready? I’m not, but here I go.

Remember I told you I went to a geocaching event at Dairy Queen a couple of weeks ago, and the next day my friend Max met me in a town about halfway between where she lives and The ‘Duh in order to return my coat to me? Well, she showed me how to load Whereigo caches onto my cell phone, which is a complicated process for Android users. I had it down; I loaded about forty Whereigo caches, and then I wanted to test the app. So Brett and I went off to a small local history museum in a town about twenty miles away, where a cache had been placed inside the building and the Whereigo adventure was supposed to take us from one exhibit to another until it led us to the cache location. Except I couldn’t get the app to work. Brett and I enjoyed the museum and we found the cache the old-fashioned way, by snooping into corners and opening doors. I figured out what went wrong and decided to download a Whereigo that’s closer to home for us to test the app. Except I couldn’t get the game cartridge to download. Last night was another geocaching event and Max was there. We put our heads together over my phone trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Max said she knew what the problem was, but couldn’t figure out how to fix it. I watched her flying fingers clicking icons, scrolling, highlighting, backing up, all while she explained programming stuff to me. I bit my lip and nodded, feeling lost and flashing back to ninth grade algebra. Eventually, she called over our friend Austin to help. He held his thumb down on the screen, clicked something on the menu that popped up, and BAM! The app was working, slick as a politician’s promise. Austin takes after Brett that way.

So now I have a couple of nearby Whereigo caches downloaded and ready to find, but after a weekend of mild-for-February-in-Michigan weather, we are under another winter storm alert today. I woke to the whistle of wind around the corner of the house, and the sound of tiny ice pellets hitting the windows. I was wishing I could whip up some hot, spicy huevos rancheros to warm me up and give me energy for this gloomy winter day, but I’ve never actually made huevos rancheros, so I settled for a fried egg on toast with cheese, Canadian bacon and a little homemade grape jelly. It wasn’t spicy, but it filled me up. The jar of grape jelly is nearly empty, so I’ll be heading down into the abyss – you would probably call it a basement – to  sort through the jars of home-canned peaches, salsa, jams and jellies for whatever flavor sounds good to me for the next couple of weeks. I’ll probably fall back on strawberry jam. I’ve been up for about three hours now and ice is still hitting the windows. If it doesn’t turn to snow soon, it’ll be thick as our village phone book, which admittedly is not very thick for a phone book, but for scraping ice off your windshield it’s a royal pain. In the spirit of positivity, I’m grateful it’s not piling up as thick as the Tokyo phone book (if they still use such an archaic thing in Tokyo).

Even I’m getting bored with this post. It hasn’t really told you a lot about what I’ve been doing, but I did manage to use up a few more Scavenger Hunt prompts. I’ve been dog-sitting, geocaching, writing letters, watching movies, cooking meals, doing tai chi, walking, hanging out with friends, putting butter out to soften every day and not getting around to making the cookies I keep planning to make, housework, laundry, still trying to learn un peu de francise, and finishing my first solo mixed media painting. Well, four paintings to be exact, but just one picture. I saw something similar online and decided it was something I could do for a first effort. It still needs to be sealed, so I haven’t hung it yet, but here it is laid out on my worktable.

Not great art, but I had fun doing it. I’ll try to remember to take a picture of it once it’s hanging over the piano.

I’m beginning to despair of ever getting through this batch of prompts. I don’t think there’s any way I’ll get through the entire list, but I’ll keep plugging away at it for a while longer. The words and phrases I’ve used in the last two posts are lined out.

27. thumb, thistle, whistle, blizzard, canned peaches, bell

28. contains a line from a National Geographic

29. algebra, lip, chalk, music, hair, eyelash, storm

30. hamster, ornamental grass, Tokyo, phone book, popcorn machine

31. ice fishing, sock, coyote, magazines, deception

32. embryo, kangaroos, peat, bones, blister, ring

33. conceptual art

34. con-artist, puberty, spider venom, Cheetos.

35. contains a line from WebMD.com

36. oil, dog fish, huevos rancheros, estranged sibling, pocket knife

37. something that happened in first grade, a Winnebago, a rocket kit.

38. heron, billiards, locket, guitar pick, promise, scar

39. contains a line from a Bob Dylan song.

... but I can not finish something with the best of them.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 24

After several productive days, I’ve declared today a Personal Snow Day. Originally, I was going to go out and play with my GPS and my friend murisopsis, but the weather forecast got really nasty, so we postponed our fun while we wait to see if the snow that’s currently falling will become the blizzard that all the local news stations were blustering about yesterday. I’d give it even odds of either blowing into a major storm, or gusting and moaning before evaporating like a spirit on the water. I’m just glad I can be indoors doing laundry, heating up leftover raspberry chicken for lunch, reading weird things because of the Winter Scavenger Hunt prompts, listening to classical guitar music on Pandora, painting a little and learning un peu de francais, and maybe even doing some tai chi later. Poor Brett is out in the cold, wet snow helping a friend today. He’ll come home later this afternoon, face red, coat wet and feet frozen, looking for warmth and sustenance like a kangaroo embryo crawling to its mother’s pouch. Too bad it’s leftover day. Maybe I should bake something.

The painting I’m working on is not looking very good at the moment, even by my low standards. I’m hoping it will grow on me as it progresses (that’s a pun… it’s a tree-themed painting). If it doesn’t, I’ll just declare it Conceptual Art and then it won’t matter if it stinks, as long as it has a message. Isn’t that how it works? I’m no artist, so maybe I don’t understand the concept of Conceptualism.

I had a doctor appointment last week. It went okay… sort of good news, bad news like that old Hee Haw skit. The good news is that my liver has finally recovered from the gallbladder surgery I had three months ago. I knew I was feeling better and had more energy, so I wasn’t too surprised that the last labs came back normal. More good news – I most likely don’t have fibromyalgia. The bad news is that I most likely DO have a somewhat rare and aggressive form of osteoarthritis. But the good news is, it’s not rheumatoid arthritis. At this point, I don’t need to see a specialist – more good news. My bones ache and my hands are sometimes just useless, swollen lumps at the ends of my arms, but the good news is, it’s not lupus. I can do this all day, and that’s a good thing, too because it keeps me from getting depressed about the bone spurs on my feet and my knees and who knows where else by now. I’d rather think about the good news of all those nasty diseases I don’t have. Plus, now that I don’t have constant heartburn, I can start taking arthritis meds again.

Speaking of heartburn, my doctor told me to cut back or stop taking Prilosec. I’ve stopped taking it since the appointment, but I think I’m going to go back to taking it once a day. I saw the articles online about some study that associated heartburn meds like Prilosec with Alzheimer’s disease. Of course, they tested people 75 and older, an age group that is more likely to need digestive aids and also more likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease, so I’m not sure if that study has much meaning. As I was checking articles on WebMD, I found this good news: “Eating chocolate regularly appears to improve mental skills.” So if I eat chocolate regularly, it should prevent the Prilosec from causing Alzheimer’s disease. Right? If my doctor gets upset with me for taking Prilosec, I can tell her, “It’s okay, I’m eating chocolate!”

THE NEXT DAY…

I got busy last night heating up leftovers and watching a movie, followed by American Pickers and I forget what else, and I never got around to finishing this post before I stumbled off to bed. It will be continued in the next day or two… or three… As you can see below, I have my work cut out for me.

WINTER SCAVENGER HUNT PROMPTS IN THIS POST ARE LINED OUT

27. thumb, thistle, whistle, blizzard, canned peaches, bell

28. contains a line from a National Geographic

29. algebra, lip, chalk, music, hair, eyelash, storm

30. hamster, ornamental grass, Tokyo, phone book, popcorn machine

31. ice fishing, sock, coyote, magazines, deception

32. embryo, kangaroos, peat, bones, blister, ring

33. conceptual art

34. con-artist, puberty, spider venom, Cheetos.

35. contains a line from WebMD.com

36. oil, dog fish, huevos rancheros, estranged sibling, pocket knife

37. something that happened in first grade, a Winnebago, a rocket kit.

38. heron, billiards, locket, guitar pick, promise, scar

39. contains a line from a Bob Dylan song.

TO BE CONTINUED…

While driving to church last Sunday doing my version of carpool karaoke (me and Linda Rondstadt, wailing away at the top of our lungs), I passed a Lutheran church with a pithy sign out front. I’m not a big fan of pithy church signs, perhaps because for several years it was my job to put the pithy sayings chosen by the pastor of our former church onto the sign out by the road. It was a thankless, annoying part of my job. Anyway, this sign said, “I NEVER DOUBTED YOUR EXISTENCE – GOD” I laughed as I drove past, not because I found it humorous (which I didn’t), but because in all my 56 years and counting of life, I’ve doubted my own existence much more often than God’s. As I tried to explain to my husband, I have often experienced the conviction that life and this world are illusions. Brett interjected here, “That’s the plot of The Matrix.” Okay… I’m not really very familiar with those movies (lowers my geek flag in shame).

God has remained very real to me, even when I’m in a “life is illusion” phase. I picture him sitting up there… wherever God sits… lost in a daydream, and we are it. And sometimes he gets pulled out of a daydream and we cease to exist (i.e. fall asleep on the couch). Sometimes he starts dreaming again from a previous point and we get déjà vu. Sometimes he skips ahead and we wonder where the past 20 minutes, or 20 miles, or 20 years went. Not an original thought, perhaps, but neither was the pithy saying on the sign that started it again last Sunday. And then I got to our church and the sermon was about identity crisis and I experienced déjà vu. I don’t really think we’re as insubstantial as an old television show that God turns on and off at His pleasure; I guess I just sometimes feel unimportant in the grand scale of the universe.

In other news… well, not really news, just another boring life update… We had a nice Valentine’s Day. The Joyous One came over and we exchanged gifts. The card I gave Brett included a rewriting of a famous love sonnet to include our vacation and geocaching adventures of the past year. He enjoyed reading it almost as much as I enjoyed writing it. By a strange quirk, we each received a book; not just a book, a biography (or in my case, a memoir). We spent the afternoon chatting and reading and the Joyous One did her laundry. After she went home, Brett and I pulled out the cards and played cribbage with reckless abandon. The pins* were flying around the board almost as fast as the Google phone queries. (“Okay, Google – What are the rules for a flush in cribbage?”) We played again the next night and ended in a tie at one game each. Maybe we’ll graduate to gin rummy before spring. (And now I’m singing Cotton Ginny for couch karaoke. Aren’t you glad you’re not around me all the time?)

Yesterday I went to a geocaching event. I went stag, but Brett showed up for a few minutes before heading off to do some volunteer work. This event was held at Dairy Queen. There’s another one at the end of the month at an ice cream establishment called Fire & Ice. What’s the deal with meeting at ice cream parlors in winter? Seriously, I could just set a carton of milk on the back porch and invite everyone to my house. If I’m going out on a cold day, I’d much rather go to a cozy cafe and sip hibiscus tea from a delicate china cup while nibbling a scone. After yesterday’s event, several people were going out to find some new geocaches and I was on the fence whether to go out in the snow or go home. A nice couple from Niles named Warren and Maxine offered to take me with them, so I went. They even put me in the front seat. It wasn’t a warm day, but I was wearing enough layers and it was just mild enough that I didn’t need my coat, so I handed it back to Maxine in the backseat.

Our caching took us to a variety of places; a bush in a cemetery, a tree on a residential street, the back of a cheese puff-colored eyesore of a building, a wooded area near the river where we walked on wet sheets of melting ice covered in a soft white glitter of snow... That one was fun for the scenery and the cawing of corvids and the hawks screaming from the crowns of the towering trees. I was about as fast as an arthritic basset hound, tripping and slipping on the cracking ice and trying to look like I was just along for the cold, wet stroll. “Nothing like putting a face upon circumstances,” as Beatrix Potter so charmingly pointed out. After an hour or two, my friends returned me to my van and headed home to Niles with – you guessed it – my coat still in their backseat. I am meeting Maxine today to retrieve my coat and, if she has time, she’ll train me in the use of the WhereYouGo app which I’ve never been able to figure out on my phone. (It’s for a type of geocache called Whereigo.) Like all things technological, I put off learning how to do something new until the rest of the world has passed me by before I grab the tiger by the tail and figure it out, just in time for technology to move on to something better .

>>>>>>LATER<<<<<<

I met Maxine at a McDonald’s about halfway between Niles and The ‘Duh. We settled into an ochre booth and she handed me my coat. Then she showed me a weird looking round object with a Travel Bug dog tag dangling from it. It was a prop from the movie The Revenant that was sent to them as a publicity tie-in with the geocaching community. They’ve been traveling with it and displaying it at events. It’s a replica of a buffalo hide shield, round with feathers and some sort of animal tail attached, and straps on the back to hold it or hook it over your forearm. The real thing was made from the hide on the buffalo’s hump, which was tough enough to stop an arrow and stop or slow an antler or spear. It was kind of cool to hold a movie prop, even for a movie I’m not planning to see.

When I was finished admiring the shield, Maxine walked me through the WhereYouGo app. It’s very complicated (at least to me) to use on an Android phone, but she patiently shared her pearls of wisdom with me until the lightbulb went off over my head; not as bright as my high beams, but even a dim bulb is usually enough to get me on the right track.  I came home and downloaded the game cartridges for 36 Whereigo caches that form the shape of a Star Wars tie fighter on the geocaching map. Murisopsis and I are planning to get together and do some geocaching soon, weather permitting. These are along a trail that we can traverse by foot or bicycle. My bike has sat in the garden shed all winter and most likely has two flat tires from all the fluctuations in temperature. My bike rack is probably somewhere in the basement. Right now it seems like it would be easiest to walk the trail, but I’m sure after three miles I’ll be wishing I’d opted to ride my bike.

Well, here it is after 11 PM. I started this post not long after sunrise and now the moon is in the western night sky; a waxing gibbous moon according to the internet (because I can’t seem to stop myself from Googling stuff like that).

It’s after 11 PM – time for Ma Kettle** to hit the hay. Pa’s probably been snoring for 30 minutes already. I know I’m talking gibberish.  I swear I’m not senile; it’s the Winter Scavenger Hunt. Besides, “I don’t need you to remind me of my age. I have a bladder to do that for me.”***

Astronaut.****

*I know, they’re called pegs in cribbage, but I needed to work in the word “pin.”

** Ma and Pa Kettle were the main characters in a series of movies made in the 1940s and ‘50s.

*** Stephen Fry, notable comedian and convicted felon (credit card fraud in his troubled youth)

**** I couldn’t fit it in anywhere. It was a cheap and desperate move. Mea culpa.

This post was brought to you by Winter Scavenger Hunt prompts 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 & 26

• wet sheets, fire, corvids, milk
• garden shed, moon, antlers,
• mild, ochre, bulb, tail, scale
• sonnet, astronaut, cheese, glitter, karaoke
• gin, delicate, hook, basset hound, pearls, hibiscus
• contains a line from a famous diarist
• tea, tiger, night, train, television, tie
• tower, kettle, hawk, charm, cotton
• Contains a quote from a notable convicted felon.
• stag, crown, high beams, pin, reckless

Here it is the middle of February and I’ve only done two Winter Scavenger Hunt entries. I think I subconsciously believe that if I keep it hanging over my thick red head, spring will arrive more quickly. Because, you know, Earth rotates on its axis and revolves around the sun solely for the purpose of my pending failure. Yes, I try to hasten the untaught harmony of spring* by playing mind games with nature. Perhaps the first painting I attempt in my new, snug little arts and crafts room will be titled Portrait of the Artist as a Mad Woman.

So, what have I been up to other than trying to wish winter away? For one thing, I’ve been in hibernation. Also, I may have developed narcolepsy. It’s awfully hard to not want to sleep when it’s cold and gloomy outside. In a purely poetic sense, I like the idea of winter – or maybe that should be the ideal of winter. I love Frost’s poem Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Evening, especially the lines, “The only other sound’s the sweep   Of easy wind and downy flake.”   I like the idea of walking in the frozen woods, dry leaves crackling underfoot like wax paper, standing still and hearing the angel sigh of a playful breeze and the soft susurration of snowflakes falling on pine needles, feeling them on my cheek like love’s first kiss. Frost makes it sound so lovely and romantic.

Well, I’ve walked in snowy woods and here’s the reality: twisted ankles, wet feet, thorny tangles of wild rose hidden under the snow like a noose waiting to snag you, fogged up glasses, a runny nose… There is not one romantic thing on that list. No angels sighing, but strange and unsettling noises made by a demon wind shrieking across the field and causing tree branches to creak and groan and crash together. And if anything is kissing my cheek, I can’t feel it because I can’t feel one damn thing except COLD!

The last time I walked Boo through the woods near my house, he nearly pulled my arm out of its socket trying to get somewhere off-path to the left. I was busy trying to watch my footing on the icy path through my fogged-up glasses and almost allowed him to drag me over to the bloody deer carcass lying just inside the tree line. I stood there, fingers and ears numb, nose red as a beet root and streaming, staring at the grisly scene of nature’s vivisection and wondered what the hell I was doing stopping by woods on a snowy evening. How did I end up in the American equivalent of northern Scandinavia from the paradise of Hawaii? I tried to follow the bread crumbs of memory to a warm Hawaiian beach, tiki torches burning, the sound of a conch shell being blown at sunset, muscular young men in loincloths, to no avail. What I was thinking in that moment is not fit to be printed on a public blog.

I’m like this every winter, as if some mischievous pixie has pulled the tacks out of the horseshoe over the door and let the luck run out. Winter is misery and longing to be elsewhere. And then one day the snow melts next to the neighbor’s house and I see the first crocuses pushing up out of the ground. Hope returns -- happiness can’t be far behind.

I can taste the heady flavor of spring like root beer foam; I can feel it like the tickle of ants skittering across my bare toes; I can see it in my mind’s eye like sunlight reflecting on water with a cosmic Midas touch that turns the darting fish to gold; I can smell it like lilac bushes heavy with blossoms; I can hear it in the song of the common robin. My every sense is attuned to its blessed arrival. Soon it will be here and I’ll be walking through the woods with Boo (hopefully the deer carcass will be gone by then) marveling at the wood violets and trillium. By summer I will have forgotten the wretchedness of winter. By autumn I’ll be romanticizing it with Frost quotes. It’s a cycle as dependable as the seasons in Michigan.

*from Ode on the Spring by Thomas Gray

This blog was brought to you by Winter Scavenger Hunt prompt numbers 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 and 16.

• strange noises, wax paper, narcolepsy, gold fish, red head.
• Hibernation
• vivisection, ants, Scandinavia, horseshoe, susurration
• Things that shouldn’t be discussed in present company
• happiness, beet root, angels, tacks, noose
• first kiss, a planet, a type of plant, bread crumbs
• conch shell, a memory, pending failure, root beer.
• portrait of the artist as ______________
• contains a line from 18th century poetry

Normally by Ground Hog Day I'm sick of winter, sick of snow, sick of being cold all the time, sick of wearing layers of clothing... sick of everything I hate about winter. I'm ready to put away the Ice Melt, the HEET, the ice scrapers and snow shovels, put my boots back down in the basement and leave a pair of sandals by the backdoor, hang my winter coat in the closet and put my spring jacket on the hook in the utility area. I'm ready for geocaching and walking Boo in the woods and a road trip south to see some color. This year, I'm not feeling any of that. We've barely had any snow -- some lake effect a couple of times and a wet, heavy, heart attack snow once.

Even the piles left by snowplows and public works have nearly disappeared. It's been cold, but not frigid for most of the past month. There were a few times the wind chill got way down below zero, but more days the temperature was above freezing, several days of temps in the 40s, and even a couple when it got into the low 50s. As long as we get enough rain to make up for the lack of snow, I can live with this.

I saw that Punxatawny Phil predicted an early spring. We'll see... groundhogs aren't the brightest creatures. If they were, they'd all be migrating to Pennsylvania where they have a pretty cushy gig going. I don't depend on the groundhog for meterological prognostications; that's what robins are for. Spring will arrive in Michigan with the robins. While I wait for my feathered fortune-tellers, I've been walking Boo in the pine grove next to the woods (because it's too muddy to walk in the woods right now), geocaching, wearing my spring jacket, and even picking parsley out of the herb bed.

The only things I can really complain about at the moment are that I'm still wearing too many layers of clothing (but at least the extra layer is thin and soft, and the wool socks keep my feet warm), and my hiking boots are caked with mud.

I'm not even jonesin' for green yet; with the snow melting off between storms, there is plenty of green grass outside the window to give me my winter color fix. For now.

I've been geocaching with Brett, geocaching with friends, and even with both together. Brett and I have been to a Wine & Canvas night.

Of course, there's still February and March to get through, but for now I can say winter has been bearable so far. I'm holding up better than usual, and I don't need a big, dopey rodent to give me hope that spring is just around the corner. I'm sure my red-breasted friends will be showing up any day now.

Bookmark61 inspired me with his post about the movies of 2015 to finally get around to starting my year in review. I'll begin with movies and books and get to the photos later since I'm a year behind there. I might get my favorite photos of 2014 posted soon, but it will be a while before I sort through the 2015 photos and pick favorites.

Okay, let's begin with the movies I saw in 2015 and the tiny reviews I wrote on the ticket stubs. These are in chronological order.

• Night At the Museum 3 - Funny - sad at end (Teddy)
• Cinderella - Unexpectedly touching
• Avengers: Age of Ultron - A little corny, but fun
• Inside Out - Sweetly funny and touching
• Minions - Cute and enjoyable
• Shaun the Sheep - Hysterical! No words needed!
• Ant-Man - Silly fun
• The Peanuts Movie - Cute and nostalgic
• Spectre - Formula, but still exciting

I read 46 books in 2015. Don't worry, I'm not going to list them all! I gave each book a star rating and I will list the books I thought were the best I read. Most are not books that were published in 2015. I read a few oldies that some of my favorite movies are based on, and I reread several old favorites. These were my favorite reads, listed in the order I read them. Authors are in parentheses.

• The Darling Dahlias and the Silver Dollar Bush (Susan Wittig Albert)
• As You Wish (Cary Elwes)
• The Fellowship of the Ring (J.R.R. Tolkien)
• The Two Towers (J.R.R. Tolkien)
• The Return of the King (J.R.R. Tolkien)
• The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin (Benjamin Franklin)
• The African Queen (C.S. Forester)
• True Grit (Charles Portis)
• Go Set a Watchman (Harper Lee)
• Big Fish (Daniel Wallace)
• Where'd You Go Bernadette (Maria Semple)
• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (J.K. Rowling)
• Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J.K. Rowling)
• Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J.K. Rowling)
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling)
• A Crack in the Edge of the World (Simon Winchester)
• Hyperbole and a Half (Allie Brosh)

What were your favorite movies and favorite reads of 2015?

After only one entry, I've fallen ridiculously behind in the Winter Scavenger Hunt. This is a catch-up entry using several prompts and showcasing my nerdy side. Here are the prompts I used:

• 2. a bonnet, pudding, alligator, stone, oboe, mermaid
• 3. a doctor, a lost recipe, church
• 4. a herpetologist, obscure records, coffee, broken glasses
• 5. winter planets and constellations
• 6. love letter, werewolves, taxi service, lost key, fish sticks
• 7. Everlastings

How on earth could I bring all of that together in one entry? It wasn't easy. It's not that good, either, but it amused me to write it which is, of course, the most important thing. I'll bet some of you nerds will get it before the end, while some of you normal folks will read it to the end and still not get it. Tell me in the comments - are you normal or nerd?

Rummaging through half-forgotten memories,

Visions rise like morning mist;

Mermaids, werewolves, stone angels…

Fact and fiction blend together,

Dissipating as his questing fingers search,

Finding a recipe mislaid so long ago

The ingredients are now extinct.

It’s tossed onto the heap of obscure records,

Receipts from some long defunct taxi service,

An old instrument… When did he play the oboe?

He sips his coffee and grimaces;

It’s as cold as the ice planet Hoth.

Cup and coffee join the detritus.

A key lost a millennium ago causes him to pause;

Whatever it unlocked eludes him,

So onto the heap it goes.

A bundle of love letters, blue ribbon dangling,

He slips into his pocket, blushing.

He holds the veiled bonnet sadly,

Remembering his friend with the alligator skin.

The broken glasses bring a smile and

A sudden craving for fish sticks and pudding.

Bonnet and glasses are set aside

Reverently as any church relic;

Useless as a herpetologist

At an ornithology convention,

But bringing everlasting pleasure

In memories older than time and yet to be.

The sorting continues as constellations spin.

The Doctor is spring cleaning.

Since there are no rules other than to use the prompts, I've decided to participate in the blogger formerly known as MoonCatBlue's Winter Scavenger Hunt. I need the creative nudge to get me writing again. The first prompt is "An 0wl" and of course I immediately began mentally reciting the poem I learned as a child:

A wise old owl lived in an oak                                                                                                                                                                               The more he saw the less he spoke                                                                                                                                                                     The less he spoke the more he heard                                                                                                                                                           Why can't we all be like that wise old bird

I couldn't get it out of my brain, so I decided to take it and run with an updated version of it. I apologize for the formatting issues; I can't figure out how to fix it.

A wise old owl lived in an oak                                                                                                                                                                          The more he saw the less he spoke                                                                                                                                                                    The less he spoke the more he heard                                                                                                                                                                 It was too much for that poor old bird                                                                                                                                                                 In his distress at what humans wrought                                                                                                                                                           He stopped asking “WHO?” and began shouting “WHAT?”                                                                                                                                                                                                          Somebody called the SPCA                                                                                                                                                                               Who came and hauled the old owl away                                                                                                                                                    So cover your ears and don’t cry foul                                                                                                                                                               Or you’ll end up like the wise old owl

When I came home from the grocery store Friday, I found my husband at home, newly unemployed. Krysten and I had ordered a cake for him which I wouldn't let him see until I'd added the little figure of a Simpsons character in a nuclear superhero suit with arms raised in triumph. The cake had ribbons and confetti on it and simply said, "Woo Hoo!" Brett is currently unemployed by choice. He took a good, hard look at the coming year, industry trends, and the shrinking benefits of staying a full 25 years and decided this was the time to leave. We've begun a new chapter in our lives and our marriage.

CHAPTER ONE: Brett & Melinda get married.

CHAPTER TWO: Brett joins the Navy and Melinda learns she can handle the household and parenthood and being alone.

CHAPTER THREE: Brett leaves the Navy with no job lined up and Melinda learns that her parents will not let their grandbaby be homeless.

CHAPTER FOUR: Brett gets a job in Michigan and Melinda learns to trust him to buy big things (like a house) without her.

CHAPTER FIVE: Melinda loses her job and learns that Brett is fine with her staying home and doing laundry and baking cookies.

CHAPTER SIX: Brett leaves his job after 24 years to begin contracting himself out for short-term jobs at other plants and Melinda learns she's been preparing for this chapter for 35 years.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Brett retires and he and Melinda travel and geocache and enjoy retirement until the money gets low and Brett gets a short-term contract to finance the next few months of retirement.

We're at chapter six right now. I'm sure there will be more to come after chapter seven; I just don't look that far ahead. Brett's always been the one to think ahead while I'm more of an "in the moment" person. One of my favorite quotes is from an episode of Monk (although I think they borrowed it from either Andy Warhol or Woody Allen and, ironically, changed it a little). Mr. Monk says, "It's not that I don't like change; I just don't like to be there when it happens." That's exactly how I felt in Chapters two, three, four and five of married life. I am at complete peace with this change, though. Check back with me in a month. If Brett doesn't have a contract lined up by then, I might be singing a different tune. But for now, all is well.

Anybody who really knows me knows how much I dislike winter.

I hate being cold.

I hate being cold AND wet.

I hate wearing layers of clothing and outerwear.

I hate snow.

I really, really hate ice.

I hate wrestling my feet into and out of boots.

I hate waking up before sunrise.

I hate eating supper after nightfall.

I hate having to defrost my van.

I hate driving on slick, sloppy roads.

I hate needing to wash road salt off my van, but it’s too cold.

I hate living in a monochrome world. Trees, roads, yards, vehicles – everything is gray or white or brown… usually a filthy combination of all three.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea. There is NOTHING about winter that I like.

Well, that’s not exactly true. I thought it was true for many long, miserable winters, but then I started looking for things that I like about winter, and it wasn’t long before I began to find things I love about winter.

I love when there’s fog over the snow.

I love to relax with a cup of my special blend of hot chocolate on a cold morning.

I love when Lake Michigan is frozen all the way to the horizon.

I love to wear my cuddly, soft fleece robe.

I love how the setting sun causes reflections in the snow.

I love being able to tramp through knee-high snow in my Bogs boots and not having wet socks when I take them off.

I love being able to see even on a moonless night because of the brightness of the snow.

I love having the opportunity to see the colors of sunrise, even though I’m not a morning person.

I love standing outside at midnight and it’s so incredibly still I can actually hear the snowflakes hit the ground.

I love the beautiful ice sculptures nature forms on our local lighthouse.

I find it comforting that I can find so many things to love in something I don’t like at all. It gives me hope, even when the world is cold and dark.