As a rule, I don't really like to eat meat, and it's partly because it doesn't agree with me. I used to have a policy, though, that I would eat meat if someone made something for me, like when I went to visit someone and they made something special with meat in it. Then I would eat it because I was usually hungry, and also they made it special for me.

I did that until I went to Brian's cousin's house and had the chicken enchiladas she made. I was horribly sick to my stomach for over a day after that. Then, I swore, "Never again! I'm not eating meat to be polite! I'll kill myself this way! FORGET IT!"

About a year after that episode we went to visit Brian's grandpa in Pueblo. He was happy to see us. He set up a lovely picnic table for us out back, under the trees. It was a hot summers day. A warm, dry, Pueblo breeze was blowing. He was wearing a little old pair of shorts and his skin was tan as leather. I think he wore a shirt, special like, for the occasion. He came out of the house smiling, carrying a tray of none other than enchiladas*- beef, this time.

Well, shoot. He was like eighty years old or more. He went to all the trouble. He clearly went to a lot of trouble, being eighty-something. I mean, when you're eighty-something, I imagine just being alive is a lot of trouble. So enchiladas- well- I had to eat them.

I ate them. They were just about the best enchiladas I ever had. (Or maybe they were burritos. Who can say?) We played cards for a while in the backyard there - Hearts- and he whipped us both, if I remember right.

I just found out he died last night. That was the last time I saw him.

* Brian says they were burritos. That's not my memory of it at all, but we both agree that they were beef.

Must vote, must vote, must vote on Tuesday (string around the finger)

As you may know, Wisconsin votes on Tuesday.

Voting in Wisconsin is very chill. You can register when you get there, and you can vote for anyone you like.

I know. You're thinking, "Of course you can vote for anyone you like! That's why it's called voting! Duh!" But no. I mean, you can vote for ANYONE you like. You can, for instance, be a Republican and vote for Hillary Clinton in the Democratic Primary, which I bet a lot of Republicans will do, since their own primary is not nearly as exciting as the Democrats'. We don't have to declare membership to any party here, and we're just given this list of names (from both - or all - parties), with the instructions that we may only vote in one party's primary.

So, there!

How free love.

It's those harsh winters. They bring out the best in people.

Winter forever!

This is my very professional drawing of winter this year. Forget global warming! This winter will last forever. It will never end.

Tomorrow, we are supposed to get another foot of snow. This will be the fifth or sixth thousandth time this year that we will be snowed in, because they plow our street second to last (cul de sacs get plowed dead last). Also, we have been stuck inside because it was hovering around zero for, like, a million times.

Forget global warming. This is the nuclear winter, the apocolypse, the never ending merry go round to ice forever. And on and on and on.

Screw you, Father Winter! And the horse you came in on!

I know you were all holding your breath!

We broke the snowfall record today! 79 inches for this winter! Yippee!!!
But Duncle Ennis swears that winter will end soon, even if he did see his shadow.

Off that topic, Barack Obama's name sure lends itself to making up words, doesn't it?


Barack the Casba!




Heard any others?


We got a new furnace installed on Tuesday. Our old one was making a horrible noise. It's a good thing we got a new one when we did. The high today is negative 3. Isn't that a mathematical fallacy? How could the high be negative?

Oh, and it's incredibly windy. The wind chill is probably negative 30.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, why the heck would someone who grew up in California move there? What the heck was she thinking? It's nice here in other ways. (I'll let you wonder what they are!) And, as an added bonus, I bought ice cream and frozen dinners at the grocery today, and I didn't have to worry about anything thawing out on the way home! Of course, I had to sit in my frozen automobile and wait for the inside of the windshield to thaw so that I could see before I could leave the parking lot and go home again, but I had absolutely no worries about that ice cream thawing. None at all! And if the freezer goes out, we can always just put things outside! Now, you can't say that about Northern California.

When my tree became relevant

I have a tree in the living room. It's an evergreen, about four feet high, and every Christmas I decorate it and put lights on it, and then I take all that down at New Years, and it seems relieved to be rid of the weight for another eleven months. It stands in front of our three front windows.

Today, about three o'clock, I was standing next to that tree, Zelma in my arms, watching a lady on my street who was stuck in the snow. She kept getting out of the car, looking around in the blizzard, getting back into the car for a few minutes, and trying to drive away with no success. After watching her for a while, I though maybe I should go out and offer to let her come inside and warm up. I sat down for a moment, Zelma still in my arms, contemplating whether or not I needed to put on boots or put a coat on the baby just to yell at the lady to come on inside. Just then, Zelma started coughing quite a bit. I said, "Oh, poor baby, you sure are coughing a lot," and I looked down, and there was the tip of a bright green tree branch sticking out of her mouth.

As any new mother would do, I screamed! and pulled the branch out of her mouth, which was about an inch long. There were a few other little bits of tree, too, and she was still coughing.

Like most new mothers, I had the number for poison control next to the phone. I called them, and the kind lady said that the tree was not poisonous, but the prickly things might irritate her mouth and throat, and to give her some water to wash it down with.

So, Zelma ate I don't know how much of our tree in the living room today, which turns out not to be poisonous. Which is a very good thing, because we are completely snowed in.

And then, once I was satisfied that Zelma had washed down all of the pricklies, and they will only be seen perhaps later, in her diaper, I once again concentrated on the lady outside, only this time, I put Zelma over my other shoulder (she was still trying to eat more of the tree). The lady was still standing next to the car, looking lost and cold. So, I opened my front door and yelled at her,

"Hellooooo!!! Hellooooo!!! Do you need help????"

She of course looked around and around, and for a good minute could not tell where my voice was coming from. When she finally saw me, she could only barely see me for the storm.

"Come here! I can't come out! I have a baby!"

"You have a what?"

"I have a baby!"

"A what?"

"Come here!"

She finally came inside, all snow drenched and worried. And, for a moment, lost herself,

"Oh! You have a baby! What a happy baby!" she said, as Zelma had completely forgotten that she had nearly choked to death on an evergreen five minutes before.

The lady's friend finally came, and after they made many attempts at driving away, they succeeded in pulling the car to the side of the road, and driving away in the friend's car.

And some nice pictures of Mrs. Clinton (to balance out that of Obama, although she doesn't look as good. That can't be helped.)

I think Bill should have the vacuum in this one! And maybe the dry cleaning.

16 years of Bill?

I don't know if I can handle another 8 years of Clintons in the White House. I just don't know. Maybe I could handle Hillary for a few years, but you just know Bill is going to be hanging about all the time. Couldn't she divorce him or something?

I'll vote for Obama.

Or I'll just vote in the Republican primary...

Or not. (Is he winking?) We don't vote until the 18th.

For the Alumni...

This was from overheardintheoffice.com today:

"Lady suit, at lunch: How is it?
Male suit: It needs something.
Lady suit: Perhaps you should have asked for a more aggressive vegetable.

9th Street and Main Avenue
Durango, Colorado"

Okay, I can't quite picture 9th St. and Main Avenue-- but I'm thinking Golden Dragon. Anyone?