spring snow scenes.

This morning I drove across the valley to have breakfast first thing with my daughter and two granddaughters. Bruiser was a little more anxious than usual--stormy weather makes him feel a little apocalyptic these days. He stopped in every doorway, waiting for me to come with him. Slow progress getting out the door.

As I pulled out of the driveway, the precip (as we like to call it around here) lightly pelted my windshield. Within a few blocks, the rain was sleetish. By the time I got on the freeway it was snow, wet, slushy snow, which only got thicker and whiter the further east I drove.

I walked into the cafe, basically shaking myself off like a dog. Gwen spotted me.

We ordered our usual--me, an omelet; my daughter, the egg white veggie special, no mushrooms; Gwen, pancakes.

'Let's make it a short stack,' my daughter said.

Gwen is wearing my necklace.

'Short stack! Are you a short stack?' I asked Gwen.

'No, you're a short stack,' she said. Working on her retorts.

The snow swirled and eddied, a lesson in chaos theory happening just outside the glass.

Naomi, nibbling on pancakes like
a big girl.

'Gwen's going to have swimming lessons,' her mom reported.

'Are you going to be a swimmer like your brother?' I asked.

'Ummm, yuh,' she said. 'I'm going to swim like a mermaid. Do you swim like a mermaid?'

I hope so, this summer. Whenever this snow and sleet and icy rain stop happening.

- click for commentary -

I wore shoes that were not appropriate to the day. I didn't think the snow was going to be so wet, and

so much.



When I got home from work, and working out, I hustled myself back into my street clothes for caucusing. We motored over to the local elementary school--entirely walkable, but the cold, and the snow. There were already people lined up out the door, along the entire length of the school and the parking lot, onto the street and around the corner.

What is happening, I asked myself.

'What is happening?' I asked the historian.

So we lined up with our neighbors, the Democrats, and waited for an hour to get inside, then almost another hour to get our ballots. While we were waiting, I kept seeing photos on social media from my friends all over the valley, and even into Utah County, that their caucusing places were overflowing. It was like a giant bliss bomb of hopeful politics exploded in flowers and democracy.

smells like hippies + freedom

The sky tonight is full of billowy, light-filled clouds. The sky behind the clouds is lit up. It's not black, it's blue. The moon is hiding in a cloud lair.

On the ground, Bruiser is capering on the snowy lawns. He loves the snow.

Scenes from the night before Thanksgiving.

1. At the noodle restaurant: New trainee at the cash register. The people ahead of us seem to have an extensive and very complicated order. One factor is that on this, the night before Thanksgiving, there appears to be no spaghetti, just penne. I spot one of my students, who comes over to say hi.  She's such a good student. We are both very pleased to introduce one another to our respective dining partners.

2. In my kitchen: I take the two-tined chocolate dipping fork that I bought that one year when I thought I would become a master chocolatier (nope!) and pierce two pumpkins and two squashes, then put them in the oven to roast. I consult the pumpkin pie recipe I'm considering. Actually, I'm making two pumpkin pies, one my regular with the candied ginger, then the other, still theoretical pie, with garam masala in it. This may be a bad idea. I'm still just thinking about it.

Anyway, I realize that I need a piece of ginger. Ginger itself. Which I don't have in my refrigerator, as it turns out. Gotta go to the store.

3. Outside the grocery store: there are two guys--father and son?--who are perusing the RedBox with serious intent.

4. At the grocery store: there are a lot of people, but there is a ton of ginger, ginger itself. Also, it occurs to me that I may need some non-nonsensical lettuce (I have two kinds of endive and a lot of arugula) for the salad I am taking tomorrow. So: some more organic greens of the non-pungent variety. And cherry turnovers also. Because there they were, looking eminently edible.

There are a zillion people at the store. The lady in front of me in line at the cashiers, like me, discovered a crucial missing ingredient. Turns out she had no corn starch, a necessity for the coconut cream pie she's making for dinner tomorrow.

5. Outside the grocery store: two guys still talking over the RedBox options.

6. At home: the kitchen smells beautifully of roasting squash.

7. Somebody: still needs to make pie crust.