I know you’ve been trying to reach me a lot lately, and that’s fine. I don’t mind.
And … yes, I know I should have gotten back to you sooner, but I honestly wasn’t really sure what to say.
There’s a park near where I live that was just a big empty field until the town built a playground in one corner.
The playground made it hard to play any games in the rest of the park — it used to be popular for cricket — but there was a volleyball tournament going on when Suzi and I walked by yesterday.
It looks like there are going to be events every weekend, but would that have been possible even a month ago?
It somehow slipped through the cracks that Sasha was out of her canned cat food, so I went to the store.
I made sure to get the sliced poultry and beef and not the pate, because she hates the pate.
They didn’t have the extra gravy that she likes, so I grabbed a 24-pack and noticed something interesting as I turned it over.
Every spring, the buds start to appear on the branches of our magnolia tree before sprouting into full, pink-and-white blossoms above the deck, outside our upstairs bedroom window and over part of our lawn.
It’s not a small tree, so there’s a lot of pink and white.
And the other day, snow was hanging off the blossoms.
This is a story about an Easter basket.
Well … sort of. And not exactly.
There are questions with easy answers, and then there are questions with really easy answers.Continue reading “The week gone by — March 21”
The first steps on the journey are always the easiest: the flat ground, the well-marked path, filling in my name, date of birth, race, gender and ethnicity.
But unless the entirety of the path is within what the eye can see, there’s always the chance for an unexpected obstacle. The trail may just end, or have snow which hasn’t melted yet.
The foliage may be too thick to navigate, the stream too large to cross, the CAPTCHA asking me to type words I can’t make out.
“Are you here for a COVID vaccine?” asked the young woman just inside the doors of the CVS.
”Sadly, no,” I replied, which got her to chuckle.
As I suspected, that was the reason why the pharmacy’s parking lot was full at 1 on a random Friday afternoon.
“I just want to wake up and it not be February,” Suzi said the other morning.
I got where she was coming from. Lately, it has felt like Punxsutawney Phil — pictured above from when I visited the town long ago — predicted six more weeks of February, and not winter, when he saw his shadow on Groundhog Day.
Although I must say, she went a little too far when she said she was tired of seeing Aaron Judge on my Yankee calendar. (Having looked at our upstairs Germany calendar, she informs me she is also tired of Dresden.)