More

Shoveled in grubby sweats, came in - showered & dressed, and all was covered in less than an hour. But I may not high-center in the driveway at least. I'm just not up to moving that much snow. Shifted it a bit.

Our driveway is narrow, and the renter of our neighbor's house doesn't have a car, so it's just my traffic. Coming in last night unnerved me a bit.




Second time. The pile on the "lawn" is deeper. Notice the cairns? Oh, wait, nevermind, they are under a foot of snow.




Moby wanted out, so, warm from shoveling, I sat on the porch as he sniffed and explored, walked along the edge. Not worried about him wandering off today.



Next week, taking off. Not going anywhere, just not going to work. Taking a garden planning class on Groundhog Day, from the community garden folks. The one last year on beginning organic gardening was incredibly helpful.


I really need time away in a chunk. Work usually slows down this time of year - not this time. Feeling worn out by long hours and snow removal. Hardest bit, the mountains are not getting enough - so our water supply snow pack is far below average.

Enough

More snow, a bad day.
Waiting for a vacation.
Enough is enough.

Inches

Yup.

From 1440 - 1830, three to five inches myass. We've got eight to ten already.

Brine

The last piece. I've been to a lot of the national parks, which made this a delight. Not beautiful as artwork, but great fun as a puzzle. Different artists, palettes, lines. The worst bit, and the last - the "National Parks" - that took longest.

One of the most missed aspects of not having a Trader Joe's - reasonably priced flowers. I make sure to get some with long grasses, a snack and a hork for the cat.



"Yup, I'll be happily horking later."



He wanted out so badly, but stayed out half a minute, and on the porch. Which surprized us, because it is actually warmish out there. Everything melting. Got up to 38˚F, even some sunshine.


That is going to be covered, very soon. The footprints are where D walked so as not to slip the other day. Broke through the crust to the softer snow beneath, for the sake of stability.



I poured hot brine on the tire marks in the driveway. The roof just drips there, creating thick ice. That might help break it down somewhat.


Now that is it safe to breathe again, I danced to Musafir, Dhola Maru, 11 minutes.

Drip

Driving to work Thursday, I could not understand why everyone was driving 10-20 MPH below the speed limit. The roads were dry, made no sense. Once in, found out the whole west and south of the valley had an ice storm, over 200 crashes, including some chain reaction collisions on the freeways, extremely slick roads. I suspect the other drivers, after doing 2 MPH on the freeway, felt that 20-30 was really fast.

All our staff and patients made it without incident, but the main hospital ER reported 37 broken bones by the end of the day. We expect to see some of them over the next week. The parking lot iced over by the time I got out. Dim light, low fog, strange acoustics, uncertain surfaces, worrying but warm. After so many days at 10˚, 25˚ felt nearly balmy.

In the morning, all the snow was covered in a shiny layer of ice, making it look more like a plastic model than anything real. My trax got me over the slippery crust to the car, skittered out the drive. D took Moby out, and he had to sniff everything thoroughly, a slow, sure, stalk out on the crust into the rose bush. A startle and hurry back in was not a success, as his paws skidded out from under him. A panicked cat on ice, I only wish I'd have seen it as well.

Warmer still yesterday, as much as I could tell, inside and running all the long day. D worked on the drive, chopped at the ice, noticeably, made a difference. Above freezing again today, melting more.

Not feeling up to much. Everyone at work irritable. This is usually when we get a bit of slack, and as much as job security is good, we are all getting ragged.

Puzzled

Well, of course.




Delicate as a bull in a china shop. Which, as evidenced by Mythbusters, is actually very careful indeed. Not a single piece fell.


Got D suckered in, and we enjoyed doing more. It's all US national parks, and with the lines, and different art styles and discernible palates. And I've been to quite a few, and know of just about all of them.


We have one on order from the same people, of Boston.

Smaug

Try not to breathe.



Not that one wants to, when it's so cold. It's like the most disgusting ice-cream ever.

Picked up a puzzle yesterday.



Finding the process very soothing.

January

Finally cleaned the kitchen floor, which I have not touched since christmas. Not proud of this, but between work and illness and general lethargy, I've let dirt slide.

Keeping the dishes clean, with a machine, has been a process enough.



The floor, well, I only meant to sweep today. As I worked, I had to finish the job. Three times over the surface, sweep, mop, sponges and towels.


I can't be hand&knees scrubbing the floor without thinking of housemaids and postulants likewise arrayed over the millennium. There really is no other way to get into the corners. I hope whatever woman first lived here, a century ago, had at least one maid to help out, even if only during the day. How easy, in the cold, to neglect mopping. How easy, in the dim light, to let the grime accumulate. How much worse, with coal and fireplace ash all over, insufficient hot water, candles and oil lamps forgiving the edges a bit of muck and dust. Clothes were washed, ice-dried, but probably not enough, not really fresh. No wonder Spring Cleaning felt so necessary.

Ice forms on the windows, solidifies along the eaves. Got some desiccant, put in an empty spice jar. Seems to be doing something.










The golden light of early evening is a blessing.



Danced to La Chanson De Mardi Gras - Michael Doucet & Beausoleil Bayou Deluxe.

Cards

My family were card players. Not for money, just to pass the time. Euchre and 500 the games of choice, two pairs of players, bidding, scores. Occasionally Michigan Rummy, with an oatmeal tub full of rubber washers to bet with, so that a dozen people could play the same game. Later, after I was in high school and kept out of the cards, they learned either canasta or Pinochle, not sure which. I got out of that phase.

I played cards as soon as I could hold a hand, taught to shuffle and deal. Usually, I wanted to join the adults. Although when I got tired - as kids will - I had to finish the game before being allowed to stop. When I was the forth person present, not even that, and I played to lose. Which meant my father would be shouting at me all the way home in the car.

I loved playing with good players, the ones who payed attention, the ones who laughed at mistakes, didn't take it too seriously - but did well. Loved a fast game, the complexities, the strategy. Hated playing with my father or most of his side of the family. Uncle Milton either didn't pay attention, or really couldn't grasp the simplest rules. My mother's side were pretty sharp, although Granny had lost that by the time I came along - given that she was 72 years older than me.

Have not played since, and sometimes I miss not using those skills. But it takes a larger group of people than we regularly have around, who all know the rules well, for it to be any fun. I don't think I'd want to teach D's parents these games, especially since I'd also have to teach D.

All in all, this form of group entertainment made family gathering tolerable. Enjoyable, even, when the extended family got together.

To this day, I will use solitaire as a stress reduction technique. I find the cards and the patterns soothing. I have no problem stopping a game if I'm tired, fudging if I feel like it. It's just a game.

Flakes

Snowflakes.

Icy and mucky. Got up out of the inversion for a breakfast at the diner up the canyon. Amazing spinach omelette, nice chat just the two of us. Cleaned a bit, ran errands, slipped on stairs. Didn't think I'd hurt myself, but the hips eventually chimed in the opposite. Stim on, at D's strong suggestion. Working.

Getting back up from the virus. Danced. Anarchy in the Ukraine, Yid Vicious - Klez, Kez, Goy Mit Fez. From a compilation of klezmer music. Nine minutes long. The progression to longer sessions.

Head empty.

Dine

Discussion in the staff lounge. Woman who is trying to feed her kids something other than cereal - all they want. Another who talked about her family rule that everyone ate what was put in front of them, or went hungry. Another whose mother cooked a hot breakfast every morning. And I bit my tongue on my own family meal dynamics, since I immediately flashed on my father's shouting and so many meals with me in tears and my stomach in a knot. How critical he was of the food. How he took that enforced hour to criticize and belittle anything on his tiny mind.

Dinner rules. Well, I suppose with children, it's the place to learn how to eat around people. Close your mouth when you chew. Learn how to share, pass a plate, use a fork and knife. Culture, politeness, all that. Not trivial, really. Although formal dining has always been an upper-class pursuit, middle class aping, largely fallen into desuetude. I remember setting the table, which side the fork went on seemed such a fraught matter. Giving the bad fork to my father a matter of quiet pride.

I don't quite know when my parents decided to always eat in the living room on tray tables in front of the television, but I'm very grateful. Meals calmed right the fuck down. Can't say I enjoyed eating to "George Perot Presents", a local show, large elderly gentleman who chatted with rather dull men who showed their cheesy travelogs while narrating and trying to be funny. Soporific, but not upsetting in any way. Conducive to digestion. My mother and I, or just I would wash, dry and put away dishes after. Not my favorite task, but not onerous really.

Dinners with extended family meant sitting at the table, taking only what I thought I could eat - then eating all I took, staying at the table either until everyone was done, or I had asked for and received permission to get down off my perch and leave the table. I was asked to try new foods, but it was never that much of an issue. I had to drink a full glass of milk with every meal, at all times. This was the worst rule of all, since I always hated milk.

D and I often sit on the sofa with our dinner, watch something, snuggle in. Sometimes here, we sit at the table, with plates and utensils and beverages. I did up Christmas Brunch pretty well, although without most of the dishes and none of the glasses matching. But knowing how to do it could be learned in a few minutes as an adult. I don't really think children need that level of protocol ingrained into them. If it's to let the parents eat with all children in sight, that makes sense, but what's wrong with presenting it as such?

Or are rules around eating so culture-bound and emotional and unexamined that parents often don't even think about how they function?

I'm sure my childhood gut issues are closely related to my father's dinnertime emotional abuse, as well as lack of green vegetables (or fiber of any kind) and the mandatory lactose.

I'll go with the lack of rules, here, together. Moby wants to sniff what we eat, delicately, then turns away as if to say "that's not food." But he's welcome to decide for himself.

Balm

Work was fine, if long. I felt good enough after dinner to clean the kitchen. This morning, I got out for groceries. But now, my hips are whining. Well, they do that.



I've known about this stuff for years, have not tried it ever. For reasons I cannot explain. Today, at the hardware store for desiccant (front window condensing gallons onto the floor) I saw this. Decided our dry hands, and my poor face, needed to give it a go. So far, it seems to be having a salutary effect on my upper lip. It's very thick and goopy, with a peculiar - although not particularly unpleasant odor. Medicinal, not organic, petroleum undertones with a hint of esters. Reminds both of us of something we can't quite put a name to. Smells are so often that way.

Giving it a go, finally. As so often with anything long delayed - it is not what I expected.

Mostly, I'd never given the name a thought. "For CATTLE: Helps soothe small injuries, rash chapping; massage on caked bag. Softens and moistens skin." Vermont cows in dairies need comfort in the winter. They don't care what it smells like. Nothing like perfume.

Put on the electrostim. Not as cold, air going bad, but still moderate. Managed to dust the dining room. Very impressed at how well D laid down sand on the unshovelable driveway, especially when I got the last in the turnaround. Not easy, I didn't do anywhere near as good a job - and that wasn't easy. He's a good 'un.

Bitter

This morning was a morning when I had to remind myself that getting up and going to work every day was why I had my beloved House. Half my upper lip took up far more space than usual, puffed with cold sores, and extremely irritated and startlingly swollen.

When I got to work, I begged the pharmacist and one of our anesthesiologists for meds. Didn't take much, just showed them the damage. Medical folks do respond to distress. Watching the two of them on their smartphones trying to figure out the dosage and frequency was a treat. Pharmacist fetched me one to start with, brought it down once she'd gotten all the first case drugs set, bless her. She was bringing drugs to the anesthesiologist during the last case, where I was scrubbed, and I was able to thank her again, that my mouth felt amazingly better.

The drugs won't heal it all up, got it started too late. But it will keep new ones from bubbling up. Massive eruption, not a happy.

Got below zero this morning. Bitter cold, extremely dry, nothing going to melt for a good long time.

Panda

Kung Fu Panda had been recommended to D, as "better than you'd expect." Feeling up to silly only last evening, we watched it.

Someone really put their Wushu heart into the intro. Very Hong Kong movie, exuberant and colorful. The story could be easily stolen from a Sammo Hung film no one has seen for decades. The animation details make it very funny. All in all, as described, so much better than it had any right to be.

Oh, there were three major issues, the main one being the presence of Hollywood Stars!® rather than real voice actors. Some real voice actors snuck in, or comedians which works out pretty well, but the supporting cast could have really popped with professionals, instead it sagged with names. Secondarily, the motivation of "belief." Well, belief gets nowhere, even in the story. Work, destiny, fortune, those are the functioning mechanisms - not airy-fairy belief. Finally, the moral: "there is no secret ingredient!" Well, the secret ingredient is the person doing the work. But this is the laziness of Hollywood storytelling, the real lesson lurks within. On the other hand, maybe if I really understood Hong Kong kung fu movies, I would find their proposed meaning a bit off the mark as well.

Jack Black managed a rather endearing character, and I will always imagine him going back with his dad to make noodles the rest of his life, quite happily. Will be avoiding all sequels. James Hong and Randall Duk Kim will always be the stars in that film for me. But it was the small foci that kept catching me, making me laugh out loud. Expressions, mostly. The kung fu moves that Jakie Chan would be proud of, speed and unexpected agility, imaginative use of props, all rang very true.

If you like kung fu movies, this one is a wonderfully gentle parody and addition.

Beleaguered

The side of the house is somewhat protected, still the snow piled up prettily. I measured 14" in the back this morning. Seen more, impressive nevertheless.

It may look a tad narrow, but it's navigable. Will go and get gritty litter later to sand it, since shoveling is problematic. Where to put it, and the surface is not quite paved, partly gravel.



We have cleared, and with the sun out, the melt is starting where it counts.



We want the sidewalk in front of our place to be where tired walkers go "Oh, thank gods. A clear stretch." Good karma to be kind to pedestrians.

Icicles along the eaves, knocking them down as best we can, avoiding impalement.

Roads are largely cleared, so we went to Hong Kong Tea House, D got black pepper chicken and pot stickers. I had shrimp paste on bell pepper and sticky rice in lotus leaf. The latter I always eat one there, take two home. They travel well, and they are such a treat for me. Both feeling much better after a light, nutritious lunch. Aromatic, which just barely got through to my beleaguered sinuses, enough to make a difference. The lotus leaf joins the compost pile, the magic ingredient, I'm sure.

Tablespoons

The dumping continues. The city has been doing sewer flushing this week on our street. Including today, apparently. Felt bad for the guys, as they have to keep shoveling out their equipment.




Quite a mess.



We walked over to get a bit of food and juice. I've been through a lot of orange juice this week. Food doesn't taste. But we needed to get out and walk. Just for the sake of good air to breathe, really. Tiring exercise.

Blessing my good fortune that I can hunker down one more day.

Shove

Snow.

All I can say is, this year we are prepared, whereas last year, we were not. So, I'm very glad last year was mild.





That's about a foot of the stuff. Mostly fluffy powder, heavy enough in those quantities. Shoveled hard for about 20-30 minutes to clear the front enough for pedestrians, and the drive enough not to high-center when I eventually take the car out. I thought I was recovering more than I actually am. That wore me right down to the nub, and I'm having cayenne in my strong tea and muffins. Can breathe enough to sleep at night, but I'm not back to myself quite yet.

Moby caught, and released, a little mouse, twice last evening. He's been on the prowl ever since, professional cat that he is. I'm just glad he didn't get it again and bring it to me in the wee hours.

----- Meanwhile,

THIS idiot just turned left, and all the snow they failed to clear from their roof and/or hood, fell on their windshield. So they had to stop in the middle of the street, with other drivers behind trying to turn left, to shove off enough snow to see. Took them long enough for me to notice, get the camera, slip on shoes to step on the porch, and take photo.



And this is why we always clean all the snow off the car. Always. Dumb-ass-SUV-driving moron. But I'm being redundant.

Moby came out with me, stayed about as long. He's not impressed with snow, he seems to think it is a bad idea.

Skills

Went in for a foley inservice this morning, mandatory. A lot of hostility from RNs who, like me, can count the number they have put in by hundreds and thousands. But I figure, well, you never know what you might learn.

And, I did. New research, due to unexpected numbers of urinary tract infections in people who have had foley bladder catheters inserted. What they found was unlicensed staff doing the procedure - which surprized us, and is no longer allowed. Medical assistants and aides, which seemed to me particularly risky. It's not a difficult skill, but it does take a pretty thorough understanding of the anatomy and sterile techniques. The other big risk is after care on the floor, which we all assumed was the real problem.

In addition, the type of cleanser for the area makes a difference. The kits come with everything provided in a sterile pack, and they use a rather useless betadine solution. They provide cotton balls to swab with - and cotton fibers from these have been found in the urethra from their samples. Plus, the entire area needs to be cleaned, not just close in to the insertion site (am I being delicate, or at least clinical enough not to offend?) And not using any of the prep solutions we already have on hand. Instead, we will get packaged skin prep wipes. Eventually, the kits will be updated.

Then we have to keep the drainage bag off the floor, simple enough, but we don't always. And either remove the catheter, or secure it to the leg, before leaving the OR. Not to mention only inserting these at all if it is really necessary.

All in all, it makes good sense. Most of the problems no doubt stem from them being left in too long, mishandled on the floor, or put in by inadequately trained personnel. A few precautions on our part will make a difference.

Mostly, though, it's because what a floor nurse calls "sterile" an OR nurse might consider reasonably clean. And, watching some of the floor nurses passing off on the skill on the models (plastic ones, not people) made me realize that making all the RNs do this training probably was necessary.


We, of course, would like them to extend the research to exonerate us. This is not going to happen.

And I'm just glad they had enough people that they didn't need me today. Feeling better, but my head is still very congested. Cannot pronounce a nasal consonant yet. Maybe tomorrow I'll be less drippy.

Smog

Today is a sick day. Called yesterday afternoon when I realized I have been truly envirused. Much sympathy, since we are no longer crazy busy. Also, I sounded nearly as bad as I felt. One nostril would not open yesterday, no matter what I tried, and I tried everything. Today is marginally not as bad, nyquil & sleep help. The hot shower actually worked, unlike yesterday. Breathing out of both nares, more or less. Frightening sneeze series.

Air is even more dreadful(PM2.5 - 82.9 µg/m3)* although the air is merely cold, not frigid. Not really a fair trade, as I would prefer it the other way.

So, the dancing is on hold, but not forgot. Likewise the ZYX essays. It all must abide, as must I.

Thinking about Brits doing American accents. All but the best actors get it unmistakably, but subtly, wrong. As though mixing Texas with Brooklyn accents. In reality, there isn't really a Southern accent, Kentucky and Maryland, Florida and Alabama all sound different, although they are closer to each other than the "Northern" accents of Maine & Minnesota, or the city accents in the various New York boroughs, Boston (South or North Ends). Getting the flat, accentless midwest seems most attainable - although Tracy Ullman seems to get them all right. But hearing Le Carre read his works, or Stephen Fry, doing American voices, the Rs are hit slight off, too hard, alternate with being inadvertently missed. Peri Brown on Dr. Who was downright painful.

And I'd like to apologize for Dick Van Dyke, even we could tell he'd got it completely wrong. Even as kids watching Mary Poppins. I'm really sorry.

I think it is related to the idea that Americans are homogeneous. About the size of Britain. Both are staggeringly mistaken. The South and North have never really made it up since the war, and the West hates the East - considering them snobs, while the East hates the West as splashy upstarts. Each state has it's own laws, and looks down on and envies other states. Really, if we could all get along, we'd be doing this better.


Off to have more tea.


*
0 - 12.0 µg/m3
Good

12.1 - 35.4 µg/m3
Moderate

35.5 - 55.4 µg/m3
Unhealthy for
Sensitive People

Snuffle

Not actually a sick day. Called off for low census. Timed out pretty well.




Mergh.



Gotta do what you gotta do.


Did the Mental Floss quiz. Very happy to get 100%. Usually I do rather worse, especially with current pop culture. This one had "old" enough questions. Can't seem to pull it up to link to, though. Tried right after, and it can't find the page again. I did notice the graphics were a bit off, so they seem to have an official Glitch.

1. Which of the following cartoon characters had a sidekick named "Rags"?
YOU ANSWERED: A (Crusader Rabbit)
(Got this one by the process of elimination, knew all the rest, didn't even know of a Crusader Rabbit.)

2. What color is Raggedy Ann's nose on the classic doll?
YOU ANSWERED: B (Red)
(Had one.)

3. What venerable actor played the police commissioner in the 1981 film Ragtime?
YOU ANSWERED: B (James Cagney)
(Saw the movie on it's first run.)

4. Which of the following writers was famous for his "rags to riches" juvenile novels?
YOU ANSWERED: D (Horatio Alger Jr.)
(Bit of an Anglophile.)

5. What band's Seven and the Ragged Tiger album featured the number one hit "The Reflex"?
YOU ANSWERED: C (Duran Duran)
(Not a favorite band, but hard not to know this, given my age.)

Read the full text here: http://www.mentalfloss.com/trivia/quizzes/index.php?quiz=4637#ixzz2HJPqk4Ru
--brought to you by mental_floss!

Nil

Nearly zero last night. Maybe it got there in places, possibly right here. I woke with the sensation of a low tone, at 0200, unsure if it was part of a dream or a real sound. I suspect it was a sound from the cold, the ice. The icicles on the south side have partly sublimated, until I knocked them down. The driveway, already narrow, is thick in ice, worrisome.

Cold like this talks, in it's own language. It moans and grunts, as I do these days. A creaky voice, rumbling.

Both humidifiers going full blast, stew on the boil, pans of water at each heater vent, bedroom and spare shut off and very cold. None of which really bothers me. All manageable, we keep cozy no problem. It's the damned pollution excluding the clean, crisp air that should be searing one's lungs. An honest sub-zero day is fine with me. The PM 2.5s over 77 µg/m3 is horrible. (Under 12 is good, under 34 is moderate.) That gets in and does cellular damage. As bad as growing up with a coal furnace - oh, wait, I've done that as well. This is exactly why the fireplace is blocked up, and I will never set a fire in it. I am exposed to a bit more hazardous material than most workers not in mining or certain types of manufacturing. Plus x-rays and bio-hazards. So I try not to make it worse voluntarily.

D getting a bit cabin-feverish. I really don't want him walking outside in this crappy air if he doesn't need to. So, we'll take the car to the library, while the pot stews.

Particulates

I don't mind the cold. I can dress for 7˚F (-14C) as it was early. Down to 5˚F overnight. It's the lack of actual, breathable air that gets to me.

We got on our warm socks, long johns, parkas, and walked over for groceries. (TJ's tater tots heating up and smelling wonderful right now.) Such a bulky, awkward process, all that bundling and layering. Does make me want to put the thermostat to 80˚F and walk around naked.


PM 2.5 Ozone 71.1 µg/m3 .02 ppm
Temperature 12° F
Wind SW 3 mph

As with temperature, air pollution varies throughout the day.
Wood/coal stoves or fireplaces must not be used. Reduce vehicle use by consolidating trips. Industry should optimize operating conditions to minimize air pollution emissions.

Moby aggressively waking us up the past new nights, which we have come to believe means he is itchy. So, we give him a bath. Which is certainly not a favorite thing, but he continues to tolerate the process much better than we had any cause to expect. Being toweled off he absolutely detests. Mostly, he is unutterably BOTHERED by being WET after, with much paw shaking and general misery. Getting him dried is worse than the getting him wet, though. Once dry, he seems a much happier creature, softer, more prone to sleep at night.

And it's an excuse to bump up the temperature in here. The cold weighs on us, largely because going out in it just isn't a good idea. At least we have stopped up most of the drafts since last winter. We will never have a problem of over-insulating this place, but we've made progress.

Both humidifiers running, olive oil on my face and hands. Everyone at work suffering from cracked skin around thumbs and fingers - hand-washing and alcohol sanitizers, along with the cold and sere.

Addendum: Did dance, enough to loosen stiff ankles, and belly rolls. Breathing rather sucks, and an external problem derailed me. Sam Phillips Red Silk Five, and another Nouvelle Vague song. Not enough, but I will not beat myself up as long as I do something.

Spice

Danced mostly to Mishto by Gogol Bordello.

Got a real anti-stress mat for the kitchen, without words. I really don't like having words on household items. For some strange reason, kitchen gear, mats especially, tend to come with slogans and aspirational sentiments written on them. The one with the three botanical images that I have, Chives, French Sage, Sorrel are written below them - although in cursive and hardly legible now. But some say Family, Faith, Hope, Joy, some run to foods, Grapes, Tea, Wine. I don't want my inanimate objects preaching or chattering at me. Can't stand the self-check out prompting me to do what I have already started to do, before I even have a chance to do it. I've been known to take the time to shut off the volume. When my seatbelt beeper chimes at me, I tell it to gimme a chance, sheesh. Don't I always wear my seatbelt? Yes, yes I do, so cut it out.





Went out for a spice rack of some sort. BB&B had one, although a bit expensive, it looked such cheap plastic, as much as I could tell with it in it's box, none out to see. And not really useful for our mad array of spices. Tried two of the local church's thrift stores, the larger one in the ritzier neighborhood had nothing at all. The smaller one in our more down at heels area, had a much better selection. Found several metal objects, averaging 75¢, that have, once I cleaned them well, helped in the organization of that cupboard.

Salt down, the sun is melting the snow on the south roof, leaving quite a slippery mess. Knocked away the large icicles with the tree lopper. Useful tool that has proved.

Best part of TJs, reasonable flowers. Which I like from here.



Made sure they had long grasses, which Moby likes from here.



Yum.

I managed to buy nothing sweet, although often tempted. Had enough of that the past month, ready for respite. Just some dried apricots. No cookies.

Leaded

The world felt like it had the hangover I certainly did not. I was in bed before ten, sort of heard the fireworks, woke at 1219 to wish D a Happy New Year, then fell back asleep. We both woke at 0530. That last part may be the real problem. My mood has gone leaden and drear.

Very cold, but with winter inversion smog. We got out about 10, mostly because we were going a bit stir. Walking behind us, a young guy with a rolling case and a snowboard. We wondered where the ski bus stopped around here, and what the schedule would be on New Year's Day. Waiting to cross at the light, he caught up with us. Holding a bag of ice to his face, redundantly I thought, looking like something vomited up. He turned away from the nearest bus stop, so we both revised our theoretical story, independently arriving at something more like : Punched and thrown out by GF or roommate in the wee hours for behavior last night while drunk, now walking with all his possessions to the apartment of a friend willing to let him crash on their couch. Further details fuzzy, even to him.

I did organize two drawers in the kitchen - badly needed it, and two of the dining room cabinets. Did pretty well last year, when it was all so overwhelming. And we have come to believe that simply Being January explains why that last move proved so amazingly difficult on us. Low on energy already, having to move I flailed. Still, I didn't have to start from scratch, today mostly meant shifting and fine tuning. Entropy made headway, so I knocked it back.

Danced to the Nouvelle Vague - Dance With Me, and Allegria Danza Fuego - Andres Amador. Not as long nor as thorough as I have done, and will do, but a loosening up, a start.

Working on the intro to "Zulu, Yankee, X-ray." Will have it up by the 15th.