Dear Diary – My bathroom scales played a mean trick on me. I stepped on the scales today and it said I’d lost 6 lbs. I knew that wasn’t right; my jeans said so!! When I tried again, it said I weighed 98 lbs. I know that’s not right. The third attempt put me at my pre-Christmas number. Sold! I wasn’t trying a fourth time!
Cremation is my last hope for a smoking hot body.Unknown
Dear Diary – We started the work week with a huge dump of the white stuff. And it wasn’t the dandruff kind. Hubby changed his plans to head to the office, and instead, headed outside to start blowing snow. He got most of the way before the battery ran out. Within half an hour, you couldn’t tell he’d been out.
I was just settling down with my Bible and my tea, when I noticed the lady across the street, hustling up her drive-way. She grabbed a shovel and headed down the street. Where was her car? So I tossed on some clothes and headed out to see if I could help. I expected to find her car stuck on the unplowed street at the corner. Instead, it was a couple blocks away. I debated about whether to keep going or not. I was already breaking a sweat as I stumbled along the road in the heavy snow in the ruts carved by brave drivers. The sidewalks were knee-deep and it was only 9 a.m. But I also felt alittle invigorated, like an intrepid frontierswoman, braving the elements. I was more than halfway to my stranded neighbours, when they got in their car and drove off. My mission of mercy was meh!
By the time I got back home, Hubby was getting ready to send out a search party. I topped up the bird feeder and warmed up with some hot chocolate.
There was a air of community by evening as people emerged from their houses up and down the street, to start diggin their way out. The worst was over and the skies were clearing.
The next morning, the snowplow came by…and dumped a 4′ wide swath of knee-deep snow across the bottom of the driveway. It had rolled in places into balls, perfect for snowmen heads. That air of community was still there…with several men out clearing their homesteads. They all watched me, but none of them offered to help this little lady. After 45 minutes of slogging, I had 4 tracks cleared for our car and the neighbour’s car, and I called it a day! I’ll be feeling it until next May.
All in all, between 40-60 cm fell in one day, closing down highways and schools (except we now have virtual school so that sucked!!)!
Dear Diary – My days haven’t been all work and no play. I finally tried out my new textured rolling pin. I made shortbread cookies but I think regular sugar cookies would be better. The pattern melted off the shortbreads.
I failed at caramelizing onions in the oven but cooked perfect T-bone steaks!
I made a big pot of tasty carrot soup completely from scratch, but lost some of it when my food processor leaked. It was probably time to wash the kitchen floor again anyway…
And I consulted for Hubby when he attempted Mary Berg’s omelette-soufflé. Light as a cloud!
Dear Diary – It was way overdue. My hair was a disgusting washed out green colour, so I took the time to colour my hair. This time I didn’t get any on the sink, but I have 2 blue finger nails. Speaking of blue, last November, Eldest Son and I went together on an order for temporary tattoos. They’re just like the sticker kinds kids would get in a Happy Meal, only instead of a picture, it’s plant-based ink. It darkens over 48 hours from neon green, to navy blue, to black. I can feel like a rock star without the hangover or the regrets..for the next 1-3 weeks.
Dear Diary – Hubby shocked me by agreeing to watch one of my favourite movies, You’ve Got Mail. I love the quirky banter between Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, and of course, the happy ending. They fit together like pancakes and maple syrup. I always laugh at the delicate jab at fancy coffee drinkers, and the quote about daring:
You are daring to imagine that you could have a different life. Oh, I know it doesn’t feel like that. You feel like a big fat failure now. But you’re not. You are marching into the unknown armed with…nothing.Birdie Conrad
It kind of sums up my life. I keep daring to imagine a different life, yet never seem to get anywhere, and consequently, feel like a failure. I know I’m not. I know we are not all destined for “great” things, and really, who gets to decide what is “great”? . Couldn’t raising children to be respectful, fully-functioned adults who contribute to society, be “great”? Couldn’t taking the time to talk to someone who is grieving or discouraged, be “great”? Depending on the definition, we ALL do something “great” for someone. I believe God is in control of my “destiny”, and while that destiny means I may never walk a red carpet or win a Nobel prize, it doesn’t mean I can’t stop marching into the unknown. Uphill. All the way.
If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.Jodi Picoult, Small Great Things