““Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice; Pull down your pants, and slide on the ice.”

Today is warm and sunny with a sharp blue winter sky. I woke up earlier than usual but lolled a bit until Gracie rang her bells to go outside then I came downstairs, let her out and started the coffee. When I came back inside from getting the papers and something from the car, the house had the wonderful smell of fresh coffee. I could barely wait for that first cup.

Today is chore day. I have a list; I always have a list. Yesterday I did nothing so today I expect to be industrious, but I never begrudge a day like today. I figure once it’s over I get to loll again. That’s my reward.

The winter is speeding by and hasn’t really made its impact yet. We’ve only had a few really cold days and very little snow. It is 43° right now, and the day is still, not even a brown leaf flutters from the end of a branch. This would be the January thaw most years but not this one. It’s become the typical day. Now we complain when it’s in the 30′s. We used to reserve our complaints for days in the teens or ones in single digits. I fear we New Englanders are getting spoiled and may no longer be considered hardy.

My mother and father lived in the city when they were young so we never heard stories from them about walking in several feet of snow to get to school. I don’t remember several feet either though I do remember walking on the street to get to school as the sidewalks weren’t plowed. In those days the plows usually left a thick layer of snow on the streets which sometimes turned icy in spots. Those icy sections glinted in the sun and invited us to run and slide, each trying to out-do the other in distance. Falling was not uncommon and always made us laugh. We’d almost forget we were on our way to school.

I Think It’s Going to Rain Today: Dave Van Ronk

I’ve played this song by several different singers. It is one of my favorite songs though I can’t explain why. This particular cover comes from the 1971 album Van Ronk.

Blue Skies: Willie Nelson

This is from Wiilie’s album Stardust.

“In actual life I am a grumpy old bag.”

The wind is blowing, and it’s pouring rain. My computer decided it wanted to ignore me so it froze several times. I cursed each time and screamed in frustration once. I must scream a lot as Gracie never stirred from her nap. She just kept on snoring. Today I am grouchy and tired. My guess is the lack of sun is finally taking its toll. It’s warm at 52° but what good is warm when it’s so wet? I do love the rain, but I’ve had enough of it the last week. It rains the whole night or the whole day or both.

I have no ambition today. Looking at the world through my window makes me want to stay right here. I will not get dressed and I will not make my bed. I might even watch television, something I never do during the day.

Walking home from school on a rainy day meant getting soaked. We didn’t have rain coats or rain boots or even an umbrella. They would have been extravagances. We had snow gear and warm winter boots but nothing for rain. I remember my hair was plastered to my head and bubbles rose from my shoes by the time I walked home. Once we were inside the door, my mother would quickly hustle us down to the cellar to hang up our coats and leave our wet shoes. I remember walking upstairs to my room to change and seeing footprints on the wood floor from my wet socks. I thought it was kind of cool. My mother was less appreciative. She’d follow us upstairs and grab our uniforms to put them on hangers to dry over the radiators as we’d have to wear them the next day. While we were sleeping, my mother would iron them so they’d look fresh for the morning.

I loved the feeling of being warm and dry in my pajamas and slippers. It seemed strange to be wearing them in the afternoon, but play clothes made no sense on a rainy day. Sometimes I’d fall asleep snuggled under the covers. Other times I’d read my book the whole of the afternoon, my favorite way to spend time.

Today I will stay in my pajamas and feel cozy and warm. I might also take a nap and probably read. Maybe my grumpiness will disappear.

Do You Dig My Jive: Sammy Price & His Texas Blusicians

The Spinach Song: Julia Lee & Her Playboys

” All slang is metaphor, and all metaphor is poetry.”

Okay, I am a sloth. It was 11 o’clock before I woke up this morning. Granted, I didn’t go to bed until nearly two, but I was shocked at the time when I finally got out of bed. Fern and Gracie too were sloths as both were with me. They are now on the den couch taking their afternoon naps so they are the slothest (a new word coinage). Gracie is even snoring.

Last night we celebrated Chinese New Year, a couple of days late but it was our first opportunity. My friends and I made lanterns first then did paper cutting. I actually cut one which looked like the picture. I was amazed as I am a horrible follower of pictures. We played a game of cards then ordered Chinese food. Clare and I used our chopsticks. Tony did not. He can’t get his fingers to work. I gave him a child’s set attached together at the top one Christmas, but he has no idea where it is. We make fun of him, but he’s used to that. Not knowing what to serve for dessert, I went internet hunting and found coconut ice was a choice, and that’s what I bought. It was a perfect ending. I watched when Tony and Clare left to walk down the street to their house. They were carrying lit lanterns and wearing their round Chinese hats. I always sort of wonder what the neighbors think.

A tempest in a teapot is one of those wonderful metaphors which has disappeared. It came to mind the other night while I was waiting to fall asleep. I have no idea why it popped in, but I don’t usually analyze where my head goes. It would give me a headache. When I woke up, I thought about all those other lost metaphors, all those colorful phrases no longer used. When was the last time anyone was out of the frying pan into the fire? I remember when we used to plant a seed, reach the end of our ropes, put all our ducks in a row and draw a line in the sand.

The one metaphor I hear all too often is drinking the Kool-Aid. It doesn’t refer to Ken Kesey as I originally thought it did because of Tom Wolfe’s book, a must read for my generation back in the late 60′s and early 70′s; instead, it refers to Jonestown and means unquestioning belief in someone or something. I don’t like this metaphor. I don’t like its origin, and I cringe when I hear it used.

Let’s go back and start using metaphors like what’s good for the goose is good for the gander or you sound like a broken record; of course, if we use that one, we’ll just have to explain what a record is and what happens when it’s broken.

When You Say Nothing At All: Alison Krauss and Union Station

This song became her first solo top-10 country hit in 1995.