The Blog Is Back
Well. It's been awhile since I've blogged. Maybe I have been about the business of living instead of only writing about it.
It is snowing here in Central Wisconsin. Again! We have quite a snowbank along side the driveway and there is a good 7 or more inches that has been added to it all since this picture was taken on February 4th. We can't even see the mailbox anymore! It does my heart good. It doesn't exactly hurt our tourist industry or the water table, either, both of which suffered the past couple of winters from the lack of snow.
We have three deer (does) who go through our back yard at all hours of the night. They come in from the nearby field and woods, and they feast on food from the neighbors' birdfeeders (is "birdfeeder" one word or two? It is late...) They (the does) are sleek and fat - very muscular and lovely to behold. They are obviously faring well this winter.
Though the Christmas Season is well over, my dad continues to sing words from the old English carol "The Holly and the Ivy" ("the running of the dee-eer!", etc.)
Unfortunately, he sings this first thing in the morning. Well before noon. In a booming baritone voice. Everyone who knows me knows they oughtn't make a musical sound in my presence with vocal chords or especially the piano before noon, or perhaps to be more fair - not until I've had a cup of real coffee. :) After all, I've been up till the wee smalls watching deer dance through the back yard! (Lest you think I am unfair to my dear father, please note that he is equally prone to waxing melodic with both booming baritone voice and the piano up until Midnight. I keep my harmonicas, kazoos, lip whistle, and ukulele under lock and key for this reason. The guitar remains safely out in the open, as it has been found to cause blisters on fingers if one attempts to play it. *insert Paul McCartney on Beatles' _Helter Skelter_: "Oi've got blisters on moy fingers!"*
Midnight is when I become the perpetrator of HDC (High Decibel Chattering), when my dad is trying to get to sleep. This must be a throwback to my very early days as A Child Who Did Not Want To Go To Bed . It all evens out in the long run. I bug my dad at night; he bugs me in the morning!
Anyway, I am back to blogging. I am a strange sort of girl, really. Communication is a feast or famine proposition with me. I don't have the emotional energy this past week to communicate with my friends one-on-one, so behold The Blog. Please forgive me for failing to write and thank you all for your prayers and kind words.
Back to crocheting socks while listening to Arthur Rubinstein's interpretations of Chopin's 51 Mazurkas... or am I more in a mood for the Glenn Miller Orchestra?! (Big Band is my latest thing).
a-ok
