Down the Road

The road to go down is now icy, slushy, treacherous. The little black pickup has tube-sand in the bed to ballast the rear wheels on ice & snow. The manual transmission is oh-so-useful when negotiating iffy roads. Most important, there is a little ristra hanging from the grill in homage to the northern New Mexico winter.
Little birds of hardiness visit our seed buffet on the portal. They are importunate, and we throw additional handsful of seeds out onto the snow, where they descend en masse and partake. Yesterday a miracle yellow-jacket somehow, some way found its way into the sitting room and buzzed around, arousing the curiosity of dog and human alike. It was found, gently nudged into a jar, given sugar water and tucked into the pantry to await the sun on the morrow. Strict instructions were given to release it only at midday when the sun was warmest (a relative concept in the depth of winter). Well, today at midday there was a fierce little snowstorm, so no go at lunchtime for the yellow-jacket. Tomorrow may restore it into nature.
Saturday, day after tomorrow, is the shortest day of the year. High hopes for the miracle winter yellow-jacket to find its way.
Stay tuned for posts on George Orwell: one's latest trend in reading, beyond Animal Farm and 1984, preceding them, actually. Has that whetted your appetite?

Not Too Shabby

A day to remember, without a doubt. And not just because I have a new truck. Nor just because it is Guy Fawkes Day in the UK (and Muir Beach). Remember, remember the 5th of November: gunpowder, treason and plot. Because we did something that put us back on the good side of history. You know what I mean. For someone who can really express all this read Mark Morford on sfgate.com. I defer to his sinuous prose.
Now...the truck! 96 Ford Ranger, 5-speed. My better half has an interim position that takes her a little way north of here to what we refer to as the Marin of Santa Fe (it's really Tesuque), and the Vespa is retired for the winter, so I got to get transport for around town. One toyed with the idea of an old British sports car, but cold reality gripped me and shook me: too low-slung for the terrain around here. Dang. So, of course, the next thing anyone would turn to is a little truck, no? The hay bale just appeared in the back yesterday afternoon — not my idea, but funny. Guess whose idea that was.

Cold today with a wall-to-wall carpet of gold leaves all over the ground from the aspens disrobing. November is such a great month, finally, again, not a month of more disappointment and cynicism. Oops — back on politics! Just can't help it now!

Now off to work to make the world safe for local foods. Thinking of all of you.

First Fire

This is where I go driving now. Can you stand it? It's about 1.5 hours north of here, beyond Ghost Ranch, and another 1000 ft. in elevation. No longer high desert. High something else for the girl from sea level. Ponderosa pines abound. And water! Saturday I drove two different horses, sire and offspring. Very interesting. They look very similar, and it was both instructive and exhilarating — fun pleasure drives along the country roads and concentrated, intricate maneuvers while training in the fields. Wish I could do that every other day. It takes me away from everything, keeps the concentration completely in the moment. Time passes so fast and so satisfyingly.
Sunday saw a fall rain, unusual here, and the temp dropped quite a bit. So of course I had to light the first fire of the season. Read and knit by the fire listening to a CD: The Thirty-Nine Steps. Very different from the movie. For once I like the movie better. And how cozy it was to listen to a book, feel the fire's warmth and knit away. It's time I finished this sweater: made of NM organic yarn I buy at the farmers market, it's for Marg. The shepherd I buy from is most anxious to see the product; so is M.
There is a sweet feral kitty who has adopted my office and the restaurant next door. She has been pretty well tamed by one of the guys there (I really must do an entire post on the restaurant next door — they are extra fab neighbors) who preps during the day. She is the noisiest, most vocal non-Siamese I've ever known. We all feed her and talk to her and are planning a warm nest for her for the winter. And we all have different names for her, of course. An office kitty is just The Best.

ID Needed

Just over a year ago there was a Pretty Darn Fun Party held on Vicente and 48th. Many very sweet gifts were given to me, amongst which is this little wooden version of Athena's mascot. I love it very much and to this day do not know who gave it to me. It is very tempting to blame a certain Tommy K., who had what he thought was a Very Cute Time playing around with the gift cards after quaffing much D.P. I love him anyway. So if anyone out there recognizes this or, indeed, is the donor, please get in touch. It is quite a cherished possession.

We are rather work-oriented this Sunday, but books in the garden is the imminent activity. Soup is on the stove (Soup Sunday!). We ought to visit the library, which reminds me: spelling bee at the SFePL on Sunday 28 September. Prize is $200! You-can-guess-who is already spending the prize money she is convinced I'll win for her. Charming & flattering. But then, I did best certain high-ranking SFDSers a year or two back. And this one is written — can you stand it?

Birthday Blog

Yesterday I was told — nay, ordered — to take the day off today for my birthday. Well, OK. And a lovely little day it's been. Plaza Diner for brekkie. All the tourists have gone! Fall is in the air! So we scootied down there with warm things on, ate and went on to the farmers market for Necessary Things. Home again to plan the day, more or less. Very nice phone calls from darling boys and sweet old friends.
Then off to the Bataan Memorial Museum. Of course that's my birthday choice. Followed by sushi for lunch. We debated the irony of that one and decided that celebrating things improving after wars is a good idea. Amazingly, there was a paratrooper's helmet in the museum from the actual 2d Battalion of the 506th PIR, 101st Airborne. Truly. Pretty damn cool.
In the afternoon we rambled down the arroyo that runs along St. John's College with Agent Twist and Capt. Bodkin. Queen Folly stayed home.
Now I'm about to make the birthday blackberry cobbler for tonight, accompanied by lashings of Gruet.
Oh, yes, and I got fun clothes...and a perfect Santa Fe day.

August's End

We walked along Marcy St. this afternoon on our way into town, Fiesta on the Plaza, late summer in Santa Fe, school in session. Beautiful, cool-ishy late summer with hints of fall afternoon. Large billowy clouds half-promising rain but also maybe just teasing. We had been to the obscenely abundant farmers market in the morning — abundance a-plenty and tourists to boot. Here's what we bought: lots of tomatoes for fresh tomato soup tonight; a garlic braid with a type that is originally from the Republic of Georgia (in solidarity); eggies from a wonderful farm school here; substantial zucchini; a skein of yarn (from the organic lamb purveyor whose sheep are providing lovely wool for a sweater for M) to keep me going; 3 enormous pink dahlias that make an amazing statement of floral power; assorted goat cheeses from our friends the Goat Ladies; and delicate fingerling potatoes that roasted just right with olive oil and salt & pepper.
The kicker to this summer's penultimate afternoon was the Celebrity Siting along the street to the Plaza. He was talking on his cell, outside of M's favorite gelato shop, and he was unmistakable: consigliere, fighter pilot, cowboy, Boo Radley — yes, Robert Duvall. One of the acting world's best faces, best voices and best talents. So satisfying. Especially since I saw him first to see him and know who he was. It's my job.

It's Not the Wine, It's the Mix

The music, that is. Liquor may be inspirational, but music is so much more so, don't you think? First smell, then sound, is the most evocative of the senses. And I think that evocation always brings up emotion & passion as well as memory.
And now I'm coming up fast on a whole month since the last post. Extra bad. And how many times in that interval have one or the other of us said — "Blog that!" There is usually some element of embarrassment or hilariousness inherent in the order, the most salient of which undoubtedly concerns the new "Family Swim Center." Oh, you can't wait for the photo, no? Well, of course, there is one. And apparently, the Swim Center is shared with the dogs. Are you surprised?
This all transpired as part of the Beginning of Year Off belonging to MR. While one of us is slogging away in an office with malfunctioning A/C, the other is buying suburban (Malcolm, take note) accoutrements of having arrived. And here's a fun quote from another family member from CA (So.) referring to the Swim Center: That's a funny visual, Kimball in a blow-up pool in her undies sipping wine with the dogs; you guys have really gone rural. Forget bathing suits! Just fill up the moonshine jug, throw out the teeth, and go for a dip in the swimmin' hole.
So there you have it. Life in Santa Fe in August.

Bastille Day

Speaking of 1789! Revolution all over the place in July.
Well, the Russkies waited till less clement weather,although the Reds did massacre the Romanovs in July.

Other notable July dates:

1st —— First day of the Battle of the Somme, 1916; tragic, shocking, historic and vile
Also birthday of the People's Princess (sounds like another Bolshevik reference, doesn't it?)

15th — Second Battle of the Marne commences, 1918.
Very important in marking the beginning of the end of WW1.

And sometime now was the birth of Julius Caesar, right? Hence the name of the month. Don't have the actual date.

And lots of people near & dear to me and M have birthdays in this month. To all, many happy returns and lots of affection from us both.

Loyalist Confessions

That flag over to the left is the United Empire Loyalist flag. My confessions here are of the descendant of soldiers on the Revolutionary side in 1776 and the Union side in 1861-65. But I, down the road, am a Loyalist, a renegade from family tradition. And 4 July is my annual day of expressing my natural contrariness to tradition.

We could be Canada.

Well, a kind of Canada. Just think of it: slavery abolished far earlier, no hideous Civil War and its endless aftermath; the possibility of helping Europe in the Great War right from the get-go and/or kicking totalitarian butt several years earlier; universal health care; much cheaper postage rates going north of the 49th parallel; and a bit more perspective on history and the complexities of the world in general.

Wishful thinking. But there's something to it, no? And if you'd like to read a gifted writer's novel about this topic, read Murther and Walking Spirits by Robertson Davies (Canadian, of course). It is a good reminder that: the Colonials in 1776 were often seen as — look out — terrorists of the time, brigands and outlaws. With just reason. They confiscated property of those who didn't agree with them (!), withheld justice and support for those who didn't agree with them (!) and weren't above tarring and feathering those who didn't agree with them (!). [See The History of US by Joy Hakim] Large numbers of law-abiding citizens fled their wrath in the wake of the "noble", democratic revolution. Shades of 1789 in Paris....

So you're saying, well, if we were still part of the UK we'd have to have a class system (we don't now ?!?) and lords and ladies (we do: they're called movie stars); drink tea (well, more Brits drink coffee than you'd think); drive on the "wrong" side of the road (it's just different — and Canada drives on the right side anyway).

So that's my annual cry in the wind for being another kind of American. Food for thought to accompany your BBQ.

Bossy-Slingbacks

As the new breadwinner of the family, I was accused last night of becoming a bossy-boots. I think the more accurate term is bossy-slingbacks. It's summer, after all. In winter I'll be the bossy-boots.I shall have to be careful not to abuse my new position of power. At least it's not absolute power, so I won't be corrupted absolutely.

This is the last day of captivity, so to speak, for MCR. Then a merry little Gay Day brunch tomorrow before heading off to the quaint parade here in Santa Fe. All 8 1/2 minutes of it. I say this with true affection, especially when I remember those Gay Days of yore being packed into the streetcar like sardines to go downtown for the massive, raucous parades that were exciting but also rather overwhelming for the little suburban family from Forest Hill. Maybe I'll wear my slingbacks.

Slouching Toward Summer

Halfway through June, more, really. Where does the time go? So beautifully hot and birdy and languid these days. Sometimes it does rather sound like the jungle out there with happy chirping all over the place and crickets at night. We've taken to meals al fresco — sign of summer. And the new rule (imposed by MCR) is that unless the temperature is 90 or above (rare) we use open windows in the car, not the AC. See how hardy we've become?

MCR is having oodles of fun reading Tales of the City and entertaining me with it as well. My current foray into crime and detective novels does not call to her at all, and I know better than to read out the juicy bits. Often our little reading worlds collide (usually with the South Pacific and my wars) but not now. Also, I'm reading bits of Stevie Smith's poetry. More on that later when I have something coherent to say.

And don't see the movie Atonement — it's too good and tragic and upsetting. MCR isn't allowed anywhere near it. It is haunting me now, and I need to watch something else to tone down its spectral presence.

Almost One Year

Such a satisfying driving lesson on Saturday. The day was off-and-on rain showers with spectacular clouds and thunder. As soon as I harnessed Lady, the rain started, so we waited for about 8 minutes till it stopped. Then we had a perfect partnership of a lesson, and as I finished a little pleasure drive around the property, the rain started up again. So exhilarating. It's my last lesson there by Lamy, only 15 minutes from our house. My instructor and all the animals are moving to a new ranch, north of Abiquiu, so my drive to the ranch will now take 1 1/2 hours. Yikes. But if I go maybe twice a month and make a day of it, it should work out OK. And in winter, there'll be a new sleigh to drive! I think I'm actually gaining some real expertise.
Now it's Monday. The gang next door at the restaurant is gearing up for the evening's production with their usual accompaniment of head-banger music. Since all our doors are now open because of the warmth, I get to participate. It's a lively little compound here.
Off to San Francisco in a few days. It's been a while, for me at least. Now, let's see what I need to stock up on there to take back to the hinterland....
This will be the weekend we moved last year. I remember it well. Oppressed with fog, we loaded the car and headed for the Bay Bridge, hoping for one last Whiz Burger for the road. Not to be — Carnival was going strong in the Mission, and try as we might, there was just no way we were getting to 18th Street and So. Van Ness that day. Bitter disappointment. I'm determined to redress that wrong a full year later.

Santa Fe Moments

Finally, my first celebrity sighting. Well, not counting Timothy Spall last fall in Rooftop Pizza (Harry Potter fans, take note), but I don't think he lives here. Today's highlight was — Ali MacGraw at the ATM where I go to pick up the mail! And isn't it curious that Steve McQueen has also been a topic on this blog(adept readers will find the citation without my hints)??
Everyone else in town sees the Jakes, Vals, Harrisons, Renées, etc. here at the gym, strolling around, exiting stores, you name it. My best up until now was hearing Judge Reinhold on the radio. And he actually lives here. Don't get me wrong — I'm a big fan of his: imagine having both Fast Times at Ridgemont High AND Beverly Hills Cop under your belt? Doesn't get better than that.
That's it for now. Oh, except here's the daily trivia from our mailbox place: who was the most popular box office couple in 1942? Don't say Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland because I did, and my pal there said "not that romantic". So I'm going back to collect the mail later, and my two final guesses are:

1. Charlie McCarthy and Edgar Bergen
2. Abbott and Costello

And never, never do I research these things on the internet.
Bye.

VE Day

Today is VE Day. Victory in Europe. We would have a very different world without both VE and VJ days. Most likely quite worse than the sorry mess we have in many places today. Ah, the bright side. In homage to those who died in WW2, in whatever capacity and on whatever side, and to those who survived and carry the burden of memories I dedicate this day's entry. War is ultimately about individuals, as any soldier will tell you.

Blogs From Long Ago

Many famous diarists there are. Let's have a look at their inspiration and consistency. This will be out of chronology, based purely on flashes from history.
Anne Frank: a very good diarist. She had reason to be: cooped up, full of emotion, driven by circumstance, brimming with intelligence and curiosity.
Madame de Stael: 18th-c. French aristocrats had little else to do but document their days in the most excruciating detail. This ended only in 1789.
Samuel Pepys: persnickety, a bit; living in an interesting post-revolutionary, neo-royalist time.
James Lees-Milne: perhaps one of my favorite authors. He was an early and instrumental administrative member of Great Britain's National Trust. His diaries of war-time London are riveting and exquisitely written in both personal and historical terms. I treasure all the volumes of his diary that I have.
My grandfather: kept a diary in very small script from his days on the Western Front, July 1918-Dec. 1919, under fire, in places he termed "most unhealthy". I still have the original.

Not Only About Cats

It's probably time for a cat update. I know it's been a month+ since I wrote here. Mea culpa. Lots of copy editing got in the way, which it will every quarter, so be forewarned. And just to get a little weather report in: it snowed last Saturday and then again on Thursday. Spring appeared between each snow visitation. It's again spring, probably for a while now; I hesitate to say for good until May is well under way.
So, cats.
They are now our little night fairies. I want to leave a pile of straw one night to see if we have spun gold in the morning. Their little bells tinkle all night long in such a charming way. Then when we open the door in the morning Tom is waiting in that curled-up cat way right outside the door so the idjit dogs can chase him back to his lair. Ducky of course has more sense.
Driving (the cart) has been so lovely lately—not freezing so that I can't feel my fingers even in my winter driving gloves (really). And you would not believe the shedding every time I harness her. I thought I'd had dogs that produced annoying amounts of hair. Try combing out a mustang who has spent the winter outside with her pals (three other horses [to whom she is matched in color and size for 4-in-hand driving], two mules and one Italian donkey named Luigi). At a certain point I just have to stop or I'd spend all my allotted driving time with her and the shedding comb.
And almost all the trees now have at least blossoms. Some have leaves. And yet, I do believe there is a chance of snow next week. Such fun. In another week the farmers market goes back outside.
Back to work now. This I wrote during lunch, like a real worker bee.
Love to all my worker bee friends out there.

Cars, Cats, & Canyons

Well, apparently it isn't Cerrillos Rd. that's the most dangerous through-way in Santa Fe. It's the parking lot of Whole Foods: wanderers, double-parkers, blind reversers, and general mayhem. It's a wonder I made it home with my meager (yet $$$) groceries.

We have stepped up the cat-exposure to Folly & Twist. Now there is a dog/baby gate across the Little Bedroom where the cats reign. We feed the dogs in the hallway outside and keep the door open whenever we're home. Tom especially is So Curious. He loves to steal up to the gate, look at a dog and hiss, then run away. It's a total game. Ducky is, of course, smarter and more circumspect, so she waits atop a bed to see what happens to Tom, the point man. Folly & Twist really are just interested—no drama, thank goodness. Maybe in a month or so we can ditch the baby/dog gate and see how used to each other they are. Looks good so far.

Last weekend we went on Saturday NW from here to Bandelier National Park, where there are fantastic cliff dwellings extant from the Anasazi settlement there of 800 or so years ago. We took a Lovely Picnic but ate in the car because of the snow and cold. The walk along the cliffs was precipitous at times but so engaging. The settlement is in a long deep canyon with a year-round creek running through it. Really a perfect place. Marg had been there with the 6th grade recently, so she stood in for the local guide and taught me how to survive on pine needles (and how to tell them from fir), which are apparently both sustenance and a dental cleaner. Clever nature.

Really Important Stuff

I just heard today that someone still reads my blog. I think that's great because I'm not stopping writing now. I haven't yet documented a whole year's worth of weather. You know that's why we came here in the first place, right?
So, today is Monday, yes, and it was pretty usual. The fact that it's the day after the clocks go forward did add a soupcon of interest: the alarm was not set properly and we arose 1/2 hour before Marg had to be at school. I was very noble and drove her. Then I headed out some time later.
One of the bigger irritations for the Santa Fe driver these days is the endless (way more endless than The Big Dig) refurbishing of Guadalupe St., which happens to be right on my way to work and right in front of Edible's PO Box at Pakmail! Thoughtless sods. Santa Feans are quite fed up. Perhaps I'll just take a little photo tomorrow via my trusty mobile phone and fill you in on the horror.
And then, later in the afternoon, as I sat working hard for the Edible Empire, I heard a familiar, long ago & far away sound: protesters shouting slogans. What could this be? I realize Santa Fe is Very Down With It, but this was a strength of feeling that isn't usually present here in the Land of Enchantment. Fearless Leader and I walked to the front windows and beheld: two cars of Santa Fe's Finest leading a procession down our (2-lane) street of maybe 36 people protesting the occupation of Tibet --- and all but 1 looked to be actual Tibetans! We raised our fists in solidarity and shed a tear for the cause and also for our long-faded days of marching with indignation and vision. Now we type out indignation and vision and still hope for betterment somewhere, somehow.

At-Home Thursday

SNOW DAY. Yes, the update is Yet More Snow. Probably 8-10 inches (as of now) where we are and lots more in other areas. So we are: cooking, cleaning, typing, cranking up the tunes, tracking the storm, thinking about walking dogs, grateful for Netflix.
Last weekend another satisfying visit from a Dear SFo friend. We wined & dined, walked in the 70-degree weather on Saturday and sat around the cozy fire on the 30-degree Sunday. The advent of spring is quite interesting around here. As Marg said: summer on Sat., winter on Sun.

Ice, Ice, Baby

No, not what you're thinking, although we do have a new layer of snow as of last night. This is actually about the lack of ice cubes in our house with which to grace the G & Ts of our latest friends to visit from SFo. The icemaker doesn't work, and we long ago lost the knack of filling ice trays, so dear Jason & Adra had to gently remind us that some people do put ice in their drinks (even Scotch!), and they graciously showed us how to place the ice tray in the freezer replete with water, which then turns to ice! So tonight their G & Ts will be the proper temperature. And maybe I should stop to buy a bag of ice on the way home from work.
I had to stop at the gas station this morning, in the snowfall, and fill up so the little light on the dash would go off. While standing there, a large snow-plow truck pulled up and emitted that oh-so-evocative scent of diesel in the cold & snow. Takes me back, back to winter in Leningrad when I was a slip of a girl. Amazing how powerful scent can be. And interestingly, this one is connected also with temperature. It has to be cold, preferably with snow, for the diesel aroma to work its magic on me.
So all is cozy and good here. Building memories in a new place with lots of help from dear friends from the old.

Monday Ramblings

Muddling around in February. It's just that kind of month. Some birdies are beginning to make brief appearances. On Saturday at Abiquiu we stopped to photograph the icy river, and the stirring sight of a V of Canada geese flew right over our heads, honking and headed north. Lovely fat white bellies not so very far above our heads. And the air was mild, at least during the day and in the sunshine.
Tom and Ducky are healthier and happier now they've been out of the shelter for several months. And we've been ever so slowly introducing the dogs to them, gradually and more & more. Maybe next fall we can thoroughly integrate....
The farmers market(no apostrophe!) has dwindled to greenhouse tomatoes, breads, dried herbs, cheeses, beeswax and oils & vinegars. Also, baskets and yarns. We buy our cat food there (Local, humanely raised creatures with one bad day [which we all get to sooner or later]feels way better than dubious canned "goods".) The breakfast burritos there are fabulous. So if you are someone planning a trip here be sure to include a Saturday morning so we can take you to the farmers market. It's indoors in the winter, but you'll still have to bundle up.

On Into February....

Oh, bloggy-blog, how neglectful I've been. But just look at the justifiable distractions: prepping for a Big Meeting in Charleston, SC all January! and...well, prepping for a big meeting in Charleston in January.
We're back now, and it was so great being back in Charleston, this time on my business trip (anybody seen Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion? Remember how they were 'business women'?) with Marg as my sidekick instead of the other way round. She was an amazing amanuensis (more vocab from KW). So wonderful & supportive & fun. And she brought me my cell phone when I left it in the hotel room! I guess I set a good example all these years.
Probably the highlight of Charleston was our escape to our very special Folly Island (yes, namesake of our special bully dog), where we walked the beach, in rather windy cold weather, found shells (more on that presently), and Marg stripped to her bathing suit and braved the 50-degree Atlantic just for the crazy fun of it. Briefly. I was Support Staff holding the towel.
SHELL STORY: 2 astoundingly beautiful, large, unbroken, corrugated, multi-colored whelks (?) that we found just peeking out of the wet sand at low tide. They turned out to have creatures housed inside, rather thick, slug-like creatures, but living nonetheless. Moral & ethical debates ensued: beauty vs. life. (An aside attributed to Modigliani (paraphrased): in a fire, choose life (a cat) over beauty (a painting). We chose life, much as we admire & revere beauty: The whelks were tossed back into the sea, where they could at least escape the jaws of the seagulls lurking on the sands.

Almost HouseBound

Today was the first day (not) back at school here in Santa Fe because we had a SNOW DAY. A Monday revelation for the girls from California. We trudged through the snow at 8 am with all 3 dogs up to school to collect some Important Papers for Marg to work on while at home by the fire. Snow blew in our faces, a very few cars drove by at quite a slow pace, the dogs were beyond thrilled (what's with that??), and I managed to fall on the ice. No breaks, just a possible bruise I haven't looked at yet. We've spent the day in front of the fire, the big one in the front room, reading, doing work by email, and checking the weather. White bean soup was made, knitting was knit, some boots were ordered online, laundry was done in case the power goes out (lots & lots of icy snow on trees and power lines), and housekeeping was accomplished (by MCR). I plan to go to work tomorrow even if I have to walk (which could be rather fun and Little House on the Prairie-ish). It's not very far. Laura wouldn't think twice about it.

Kit and Cats

The dark evening of the first of January. Time for split pea soup and forward thinking. It's a year of even numbers, a leap year, a (gulp) presidential year. Here in NM we have a potential presidential (vice presidential?) candidate. Perhaps now some people will realize that New Mexico is actually part of the Union. (And if you've read your Blood and Thunder you'll know that in the Civil War NM was a Union state, unlike heinous Arizona and Texas.)
We mark the new year today with a long walk in a box canyon in Ghost Ranch. The creek/river there is frozen over to varying depths, and we have to leap across its switchbacks several times. The poetry of the water gurgling below the ice crust is quite charming. There are large cat prints in the mud along the path, and Marg says that if we see one she hopes it's at least a mile away upon sighting or we'll have a "situation". Indeed. The dogs slither on the ice like Hans Brinker, and we hope no one breaks through or there will be yet another "situation".
My greatest challenge of the end of 2007 was negotiating an icy driveway at night in stiletto heels to attend a party given by new acquaintances not very far from our house. Isn't that terrible? Where's the damn red carpet? When we left the party several hours later the temperature in the car read: 11. But my shoes looked great. Do I write too much about shoes here? Is that possible?