My kid has been home from school, sick, ALL week. Man this cold hit her hard. Catching up on homework is going to be a bitch.
This morning I had to go to work in the -20 windchill. I'm pretty sure that in January that windchill would have closed Emma's school and perhaps even canceled classes at the college, but I think they figure we've all gotten used to it. Or else they're just can't afford to lose any more days and figure if people die of frostbite, well, too bad. And really, most of them won't die --just lose a finger or nose.
Remember Gwen, our cat? Well, she's still hanging on, but just barely. She'll be okay (if by okay you mean wandering the house howling, deaf and blind and hoping to stumble on to a person) for days, and then bang, she'll have a bad day. On her bad days she can't seem to move --its like she loses all muscle tone, and just lies in her bed. If you pick her up, she arches her head back oddly and meows, and if you put her down she collapses. Twenty-four hours later, she's back to wandering and howling. Each time it happens, we look at each other, thinking, this is the end. So far we've been wrong.
I google-mapped our address, and they've updated. I do this every once in a while --I kind of like looking around the world on Google maps. When I read about a cool setting in a book, I'll take a quick flight over the area with Google maps. It's fun. But the new picture of our place must have been taken in the summer, because the pool is blue (no winter cover), and there are two floaties on the edge. I zoomed in to see if they caught any of us in our swimsuits, but apparently not. Which is kind of amazing because I think Emma was actually in the pool more than she was out last summer. It looked inviting. Do you guys ever do that? Look around your neighborhood? Or look up book locations?
I'm almost done with Melissa's book, Kicks Like a Girl --I'll post again with a review when I finish :-)
And that's all I've got. I really need some warm sunshine on my face while sitting on the garden bench. It appears to be a vain hope, though.