I suppose it would be considered churlish of me to complain about the weather, but I'm going to do it anyway. G'ma was cold as we left the pod-castle this morning. "Mommy, it's in the mid-60's and it's January," was met with "SO??? It's cold."
I could wax eloquent about how frail she is getting. Instead, I'm just going to agree with her. It's dreary and rainy and cooler than it ought to be.
There, I've said it. I will move on.
This is a slow sports week for my boys. They are on tenterhooks, following every scrap of information as their 49'ers head toward the Super Bowl. For those of you unable to add your own two cents to the water cooler patter (and you know who you are), here are the highlights: the coaches are brothers who always look ready to surprise the other with a noogie. No, the Patriots are not playing, the Baltimore Ravens (actually the faux-Cleveland Browns, but that's another tale for another time) apparently will be carrying out God's plan as they swoop to victory on Sunday.
That's Ray Lewis's story, and he's sticking to it. Personally, I'd like to think about that being as having more important matters to tend.... although maybe Ray's church of football is across the street from Annie Savoy's Church of Baseball. I wonder....
Slow progress can impede the best of intentions. Pedicure to pedicure, my neighbor and I commiserated. She'd been on Weight Watchers since October. She'd only lost 14 pounds and she was discouraged. Having hauled my achy hip up onto the massage chair with movements that were the antithesis of grace, I shared her pain. Two years on and I'm still creaking along.
But, as I reminded my new friend that one pound per week will be 52 pounds next October, that slow and steady wins the race, that you have to set achievable goals and be satisfied with the interim steps, that she was trying and that was the main thing, I realized that one year ago I needed two hands to get one leg up there with me.
She never knew she was a mirror
The back-to-back freezing nights last week took a toll on my plants. The lantana are shells of their former selves, droopy and brown and matted. I knew better than to leave the adenium out in the chill, and its soggy trunk fills me with remorse. The theoretically-evergreen Mexican Bird of Paradise is leafless and an interesting shade of ecru. It bends, so it's not dead, but if this is livin'.....
I would take pictures for you, but it's too ugly out there (cf paragraph 1)