Deb's Birthday

She turned nineteen. Can you believe it?

I can't.

It's hard to remember what it was like oh so many years ago when the kids were little. So much growing up has occurred in the meantime, and most of my thoughts of them, the images of them I keep in my head, are how they appear now, how they act now, how they talk now. And they are a lot of fun now.

But, oh, how totally insane they used to be! (And I mean that in the best possible way.)

Those two girls growing up in the same room, playing in their little fantasy worlds with their dolls, wearing all those cute little outfits, laughing and giggling and singing and giving me such wonderful hugs when I came in at night to tuck them in and read them stories and sing songs and pray. it made me so happy that they had each other. Sisters are such treasures.

Perhaps that is why Deb is so good with little children. Having a little sister probably gave her a special insight into the ways of younger children. Or maybe she just enjoyed playing Mom. Either way, she gets along very well with the little ones. She's a good babysitter. She'll be a great mom some day.

Meanwhile, she's pursuing a college education in one of the other areas in which she excels: Writing. Over the course of the last few years, she has gotten quite good at it. And she has is fascinated by the study of the human mind in her psychology class.  And she's studying French!  Nous sommes si fiers de vous et de vos réalisations!

Can't wait to see what she does with it all.  Writing, teaching, traveling, exploring. I hope she gets the chance to visit France some day ... on her way to visit big brother James in Germany.

Deb, I hope you had a wonderful birthday.  It was so good to have you home for the weekend. Thanks for taking us to see 'Hidden Figures'!  It was awesome!  And we had a great time at Jaku!

We love you!

Nothing in Particular, Just Wasting Time

Middle of January, and my head is still hurting, hurting like a vise wrapped around my brain. The meds are kicking in and it's like drowning slowly in syrup, sweet, sticky syrup. Does that ever happen to you? Middle of January and the temperature is hovering around fifteen degrees and the air is so dry that it hurts to breathe, you can see your breath inside the house sometimes as you create little clouds and then they disappear as the last remaining bits of moisture are sucked into the air vents and routed through the furnace and reduced to smoldering ash.

It's fine, it's OK, that's the way things go here in slap-happy Michigan. We've gotten used to the chill, the ice on the roads, the driveway that never seems to get cleared, the air that cuts right through your lungs, the endless layers of clothes that have to be put on, one at a time, before heading outside to find out that the car doors are frozen shut.

Handy Tip #1: Keep a can of PB Blaster (or the equivalent) near the front door so you can spray it into the locks on those days where the Snow Wizard is particularly nasty.

The only thing nice about days like this, is that the snow is not falling. When the snow does fall on days like these, it's like driving through a sandstorm. Low visibility, wind whipping the white powder around like miniature tornadoes, masking the people who are crazy enough to try walking in it on their way to the store or their work or even their mailbox.

Did you know that those cheap plastic mailboxes get frozen shut, too?  And that if you hit them with a hammer to knock them open, they will instead shatter into a million pieces?

That's why it is important to use metal mailboxes, strong stainless-steel monstrosities that can withstand the blows of impatient homeowners -- and the blows of impatient snowplows.

No, this is not a lesson I learned through experience, only by observation. I am not silly enough to beat on a defenseless mailbox. But I have seen a number of them shattered and twisted, lying on the side of the street like so much roadkill.

Winter can be so brutal.

So can Time.

I've been listening to David Bowie songs over and over again for the past few months. Nostalgia? Obsession? Depression? Not sure which. Maybe All of the Above. But it makes me feel better. His music speaks to me. (And thanks to my old high-school buddy Will Schermerhorn for getting me hooked on Bowie and Steeley Dan.) And we lost him just a year ago.

Time is a killer.

Time is depressing.

I wish I had the Time to tell you how bad Time can be. But I don't. There is too much to do around here.

Maybe next Time.

Happy New Year!