While many in my family deal with layers of ice and snow, downed trees and no power (living in southern Ohio, that is; Alice is spared those in Florida but has had her share of hurricanes, so it evens out), Ann and I are bummed that the weather is so nice in Minnesota today. We fell one day short of spending the month entirely below freezing. It wouldn't have been a record, but we would have felt more virtuous, somehow. A few weeks ago we had a stretch of 86 hours below zero, and we just nodded to one another: yep.
This is what winter in Minnesota is supposed to be like.
Today Ann went to a puppet show and puppet making workshop with two moms and three kids. I slept in, had breakfast, checked the roof for ice dams, then put a lawn chair up in a sunny patch of snow in the back yard and sat listening to the neighborhood noises. Eyes closed I could hear 360 degrees of sound. Birds up and to the left, eating and chiding Emmie who was on the sleeping porch no doubt making threatening gestures, neighbors walking down the sidewalk, some cars, a jet, crows in the distance. I was in the middle of blissful meditation when I heard the German Shepherd "Radar" barking down the alley. When Radar's owner walks him past our house you'd think he was the most dangerous animal alive, but when we walk past his yard he's always up on his hind feet against the fence, tail wagging, smiling, saying hi. When I heard Radar's voice I involuntarily thought of Hogan's Heroes, and the guard dogs who loved them, and laughed out loud. I don't think you're supposed to laugh during meditation (unless you're the Laughing Buddha), but I didn't feel too bad about it.
Ann is home, we've gone for a walk, and she's resting up between social events. She'll head to the Bob Marley tribute tonight with John at 8pm, about the time I start working on my tribute to the Napping Buddha.
