goin crazy

The snow squalls were interesting yesterday. At times the sky looked like it was clearing, shortly thereafter all you could see out the window was snow. When I drove home from work yesterday it was snowing hard, and a sudden strong blast of wind brought additional snow showering out of the towering roadside trees. Visibility was zero. And suddenly there was an SUV heading straight for me, well into my lane of the highway. Luckily I live here and respect the weather conditions, I was traveling around 40 km per hour, so I could swerve towards the ditch to avoid a head on collision. The driver of the SUV didn’t slow, stop or seem to think anything at all of forcing me off the road, they just kept speeding along. The road was wider where this occurred so I didn’t end up in the ditch, didn’t get stuck. I just carried on at a snail’s pace until I reached home, safe and sound. I don’t yet look old enough to pull off the “little old lady driver” thing, but give me time and I’ll get there.

Snow squalls are expected again today. With a little bit of luck a squall will not cross my path on my trip to work and back again.

Attila and I are breathing a sigh of relief, I’ve managed to get enough work to diminish the mountain of bills that arrived around Christmas and lingered into the New Year (insurance, property taxes, heat etc.). We could see them coming but were unable to prepare for them before they arrived. Hand to mouth to be sure, but at least the hand is still moving towards the mouth.

Okay, this isn’t much, but what a rush! I heard a bird call in the forest, so loud that the sound penetrated the walls of the house and found me sitting here. Not since last November has such a sound infiltrated these four walls. Snow squalls and bird song, a transition in progress.

A new poem, “goin crazy“.

Worldly Distractions


-21 °C
Condition: Snow
Pressure: 101.5 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: -21.0°C
Dewpoint: -22.9°C
Humidity: 85 %
Wind: SSE 8 km/h
Wind Chill: -27


“What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?”
Ursula K. LeGuin

Damn The Torpedoes

Yesterday there was nothing about work I could have complained about, I just didn’t want to be there and the experience felt jarringly discordant all day long. I maintained my smile throughout. Sometimes the corporate straight jacket fits a little too tight; the abrasions are still chaffing this morning.

Attila and I made a trip into the village yesterday evening, to do some much overdue banking and pick up supplies. The savings on groceries when we shop in the village is enough to pay for the fuel to make the trip there and back; and there are more allergen-free food choices in the village.

Store bought soda biscuits are usually made with palm oil, or other saturated oils that aren’t all that good for you. President’s Choice has a new product, Olive Oil & Rosemary soda crackers, made with…. olive oil. After some experimentation the following conclusion was reached; these crackers are not great with peanut butter, not great with strawberry jam, lovely with cheese and best plain. You heard it here first.

After a cloudy start to the morning, the sun is intermittently breaking through the clouds. Attila is working this morning, I am not. Our plans for the afternoon are modest. Attila will split wood and build fires. I will putter.

Our experiment with NetFlix continues, and when the next high-speed bill comes in the total cost can be tallied. Streaming videos is a great way to watch movies and television programs, pausing whenever and resuming whenever one feels the need. The selection outranks our satellite service by leaps and bounds. But the cost, the cost will be the determining factor.

I’m gearing up to write poetry again, it has been some time since I’ve written anything acceptable, acceptable to me I mean, I’ve only published one poem, so publication is not my criteria for acceptable. Time to get out the pen and paper. There is no intrinsic or material reward for writing poetry. Poets seldom become affluent as a result of their writing. And as one disdainful person wrote about poetry readings, “The poetry was still torture, though”. It hardly inspires one to write. Damn the torpedoes.

Worldly Distractions


-8 °C
Condition: Cloudy
Pressure: 100.8 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: -8.0°C
Dewpoint: -12.7°C
Humidity: 69 %
Wind: SSE 8 km/h
Wind Chill: -12


“No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.”
William Blake