Oops! The paragraphs in italics that follow the first three paragraphs of this post were in draft form yesterday, but then my computer glitched and refused to go further. And then, I had our bi-weekly Community Dinner to prepare for including recruiting a young strong Marita next door to shovel the rest of the driveway for four cars if necessary, knowing that either stir-crazy, house-bound invitees would welcome the break; or else still feel frozen by cemented-in street curbs, thanks to ploughs driving down the middle of them — so I gave up, relieved.
Then, dinner. Just six intrepid souls, a hilarious, intimate gathering around the kitchen table with chicken, green beans, quiche, crackers with cheese, guacamole and hummus, and cookies, plus a terrific bottle of Menage-A-Trois “Midnight” red wine blend. So, obviously, it turned out that I didn’t need to fret about shoveling for more parking! BTW: our tiny bonded dinner band included two people from Poland and one from Belarus! — who, once they discovered each other’s origins, greeted each other excitedly in their native tongue.
Then post-dinner, I was finally able to go online, only to discover that Bloomington is to receive up to five more inches today and tonight . . . groan . . .
So puppy Scampi and I made sure we walked early this morning.
From yesterday’s draft post:
I’m about ready to do three new posts, all on extremely serious matters, but today I must stop and do one more post referencing my recent walks on icy streets after the big storm that, at least on this block, dumped close to 15 inches (which then settled to 12 inches).
Today, four days after the storm, puppy Scampi and I were finally able to enjoy a regular 3-4 mile daily walk, with my Sagittarian stride that 40-ish neighbor Mariella constantly tells me she’s jealous of, calling it “vigorous:” “I want to grow old like YOU!”
Only one or two spots through which I had to stomp slowly and carefully.
Okay, back to this morning:
And yeah, that second icy storm front moves in today and tonight, followed by continued freezing temps over the next two weeks. Geez! You’d think I was back in my 20-foot diameter yurt in Jackson Hole, Wyoming!
Meanwhile, one thing the new storm will be good for. Covering up Scampi’s tracks and pees and poops out in back.
Notice the long trail that leads to the fence behind the yurt? That’s where he flies out furiously, sails off the porch like a tiny tornado, barking like crazy, until the two, also-furiously-barking, larger dogs on the other side of the fence retreat back inside. (He hears them out there way before I do; is utterly attuned to when they are available.) All three of them love their barking game. At least three times daily, for a minute or two or three. Scampi struts back inside afterwards, as if he’s king of the jungle, having barked louder, stronger, longer, again.
They’ve never met, in the flesh. I wonder what would happen if they did.
Their game reminds me of our human games, so often furious with one another due to fences created by our screens. But when we meet in person? And actually listen to one another? Actually dare walk a mile in the Other’s shoes? To climb inside the Other emotionally?
We are all alike.
The same needs,
the same fears,
the same longing
for the Love
that fills
and fuels
the universe.
Our frozen world
melts into unity.
Which reminds me: I noticed, on my walking peregrinations during the aftermath of the first storm, that strangers are easily approachable, very friendly and warm: it helps us bond when we realize we are all enduring the same intensely difficult experience.
Oh yeah? Compared to homeless people everywhere? Compared to war zones across the world? Compared to Los Angeles fires? Compared to my son Colin’s nerve-damaged paralysis?
EVERYTHING is relative.
Be grateful, Ann. Be grateful.
Oops! I glance outside. It’s starting to snow.
