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?
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