Bullets.

  • Last year at this time, there had already been a few significant snows and so I suppose it’s unfair (ungrateful?) for me to be complaining about these couple of insignificant inches that didn’t even yield a school weather delay.
  • Today’s the first day of the winter term at my university. In a couple of hours, I’ll be holed up in a basement classroom, commiserating with 18- and 19-year-olds about slippery sidewalks and really cold, biting winds.
  • There’s a very small baby near me at the Starbucks. Her mother, I presume, is having a meeting with another mom (I presume) about how much to charge for the etched glass mugs they are planning to start selling. One of them (no baby) just got an etching kit; she’s eager to start using it. She wonders if she can also etch metal. I like the ambition — the enthusiasm. One (with baby) just shouted, “seize the opportunity!” (She did. She shouted it. At Starbucks. Her baby was unmoved.)
  • The boots I’m wearing today fit best with no socks, which is how I’m wearing them today. I bought them two years ago in preparation for our trip to Seattle. I never wore them there — not even once. The rain, as it turned out, was more of a mist. They’ve since become my winter snow boots and, unfortunately, they’re not quite suited for that. Waterproof though they are, my feet have been cold since I stepped out of bed at 7 this morning. It’s challenging for me to find weather-appropriate footwear in the winter. Just add that to my long list of winter-wear complaints. I saw a sign on a garden center’s marquee: Spring Soon. Not soon enough.
  • I wish that glittery eye shadow was appropriate for a 40-year-old. I have a feeling that wearing it would significantly improve my day.

 

 

 

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