Author: Allegra

Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

Snowing and assfreezing cold

Work is, like, amazing.  I feel like I’m looking at the stars, and they’re just the little lights you get when you’ve hit a wall abrumptly (deliberate typo).  Yet everyone is so nice, and I feel so fortunate.

Katie is refusing to answer the phone or talk to me except a terse ‘alive’ on facebook. I have no idea if she even typed that message.  Some folks you can’t do favours for, so I’m going to do myself a favour and just ignore all of this. 

Ziva, how I love your heater.

I really, really need snow tires.  Not enough tread and too much slippery from cold road surfaces.

Elizabeth Wake, a long dead relative, wrote this

Day Dreams

Sitting idly one even
In fanciful vein
Childhood’s wonderland golden
I live o’er again

Beyond the horizon
I see far away
The crimson red sunset
The farewell of Day

How oft I have fancied
Thus gazing afar
Beyond the horizon
The better worlds are

Here shadows may darken
And bleak winds may blow
Away over yonder
If we could but go

There’s sunshine & gladness
And beauty for aye
Across the green landscape
Just over the way

So when the clouds gather
And winds whistle chill
Beyond the horizon
Away o’er the hill

I dream the blue heavens
Are cloudless and fair
And peace like a river
For aye floweth there

Safest happy delusion
For well do we know
Beyond the horizon
No mortal can go

None reach its fair border
Though run we all day
For far as we travel
Tis further away

Regifting

Jeff is off to the island, blackberry jelly in tow.

Katie is elsewhere, although she was here most of the day yesterday.

I lunch with Sue today.

I have managed to get SOME things off my list but not as many as I’d hoped.  Right now I am going to make coffee and settle in with some grotesquely religious and or twee Victorian poetry.  One of my near relatives didn’t have the option to bookmark links to poems she liked, so she hand copied them out.  Good thing people had better handwriting in those days.  My job is to transcribe the poems.

Eddie is only too well aware what it means when Jeff packs a bag and leaves before dawn.  He came up to me downstairs, wailed softly twice, and jumped up for a scritch. He then went looking for Katie.

I can hear Margot quacking off in another room.  She quacks when she’s exercising and she quacks when she has strong emotions.  I suspect this quack was triggered by a quick trip outside via the cat door.

Patricia gave me a lovely sweater to regift to Katie.  Katie loved it but it was that little bit too small, so Katie and I drove down to Suzanne’s yesterday to give it to her, and my goodness…. that was the right thing to do!  She looks awesome in it and pronounced herself well pleased.