Another week

Amid heavy snow and slippery roads, I made it home yesterday evening, grateful to see my beloved husband and sweet cat Simon. My husband had prepared a roast, with rice, gravy, and green beans, so we dined in style and caught up on some taped segments of Jeopardy. Once again, I opted out of going to physical therapy this morning; we're in the midst of lake-effect snow, and after my tense white-knuckled trip back from Big Rapids yesterday, I just couldn't force myself to get back into the car. However, my "arm bicycle" came in the mail yesterday, so I used it for a while to assuage my guilt. I'll be seeing my orthopedic guy Tuesday morning, so I'm hoping he doesn't send me for more PT. It's just so hard to work it into my schedule, and I'm frankly sick to death of winter snow and sludge and ice. Of course, I have another two or more months of it to endure, but why risk driving and walking in it any more than I have to? Several deaths have occurred here due to this exceptionally bad winter, and I'd prefer not to be one of them.

My poor son and his wife in Fayetteville, Arkansas, are battling a terrible ice storm. They were without power for 36 hours, and much of the town still has no power. They managed to get by with their wood-burning fireplace providing heat, but their cat (who is old and blind) was extremely unhappy about all of the disruption to her routine. If there is one thing cats like, it's clockwork routine. Simon has already learned when I'm returning from Big Rapids and goes to the garage door to wait for me on Thursdays.

Speaking of cats, my dear friend Ellie has suffered the loss of her elderly cat Gus, who died this week at the age of 17. That's probably about 80 years old in cat years. Still, she is grief-stricken and vowing to get no more pets. My husband and I also keep saying we won't get more pets when Simon passes away, but I know myself too well: I do love having a cat around the house. Right now, my fuzzy little friend is asleep under my desk, his preferred spot at the moment. If I'm home, he's near me. If I'm not, he's fighting my husband to see who gets to occupy my husband's cushy desk chair.

I'm still fighting the mouse at Betty's. Even though I took all my food stuffs (as little as it was) and locked it into a plastic lidded bin, the mouse comes calling. A couple of mornings ago, he woke me about 5:45 a.m. as he rattled the plastic bag that lines my lidded trash can. I can't bring myself to get a mousetrap or poison. Maybe I'm being deprived of sleep, but the little rodent is only doing what mice do. There's snow on the ground, so he is looking for food wherever he can find it. I just wish he'd realize that Betty's kitchen is a better place to hunt.

My cousin Mary will be 58 on Feb. 2, Groundhog Day. I need to get her card in the mail today. She just became a grandmother again for the umpteenth time. Her older daughter Marilyn had another one. I think Marilyn has half a dozen or more kids. Maybe one day I too will have a grandchild. Meanwhile, I could do without dreams of the sort I had last week. I'm horrified of snakes, and apparently so is Lester Holt of the Today Show. There were snakes on his show, and he was doing all he could to avoid touching them. Some of them were massive, but others were tiny. It didn't matter. Lester wasn't touching one of them. I don't blame him. I wouldn't either. But to get to the relevance of the dream: I dreamed that I had a granddaughter, who happened to be a large golden yellow snake. My snake granddaughter could talk and was a very sweet creature. She even introduced me to her grandfather on her snake side of the family. He was a huge green snake. In my dream I wasn't afraid of my granddaughter or her grandfather, so I'm wondering what the meaning of the dream might be. Perhaps I should get over my fear of snakes? Certainly, I don't want a snake to be a part of my family in any way, shape, or form.


I suppose I ought to get busy and get some work done, but to be honest, I'm exhausted. My spouse kept me awake between two and four a.m. because he was snoring. Mice at Betty's, snoring at home. I can't catch a break.