Saying Goodbye To The Old Man

The Old Man hiked up his baggy pants today, puffed up his chest and showed us he still has it going on.

Old Man Winter that is…and  I love it.

Before logging on today to what I was sure would be a bombardment of negativity on social media and going to work where I knew hours of complaining awaited me, I took a little detour after the school run.

Roundin' the bend at the old convent..

Roundin’ the bend at the old convent..

To the angels, of course.  I drove to the old convent and parked at the edge of the forest.  The snowy silence occasionally broken by the songs of birds sweetened the moment, their optimism infectious..I wished I could send their message to everyone today who will waste another day of their life complaining and wishing time away.

I thanked the Old Man for this beautiful morning and for filling our rivers and soaking the earth.  I know a glorious Spring awaits under this pretty snowy blanket.

Happy Spring to you, Winter.  Peace.

Having a last moment with Winter in the woods.

Having a last moment with Winter in the woods.

Hellloooo? Testing..Is This Thing On?

Oh, hi.

It’s been a while.

Like a whole, entire month while.

Is everyone o.k.?

Excuse me while I stop to catch my breath.  Crawling out of this rabbit hole I fell down the entire month of February takes some energy.

And, I’m Fifty.

So there was cake.

So there was cake.

So this could take a while…go put the kettle on, I’ll still be hoisting myself up when you get back.

O.k., I’m just going to blog from inside the rabbit hole..I got halfway , saw my shadow..and yikes..looks like the shadow found her spare tire she lost from last year.. and decided to stay until April.

I’ll be honest with you..turning Fifty kinda sucked.  It sucked because I mostly found myself wanting to kill people who were trying to tell me, nearly at every turn, that turning Fifty sucks. God, those people suck.

People that felt the need to console me on my birthday..”oh, it’s not so bad..it’s just another day..just a number, you’ll survive….you don’t look Fifty.”   Funny, I don’t remember asking for a psychiatric consult..a simple “Happy Birthday!” would have sufficed.

Then, there was Enzo, my Chocolate Lab..who also felt the need to inject some pain and suffering (his and mine) into my big day, after his version of a paint ball party went awry.  Apparently eating over 300 green paint balls is not recommended and will buy you, and an innocent bystander Black Lab, Beau, a night in the pokey for a ’round the clock IV and enema party.  We spent all night sitting in the emergency clinic, anxious and increasingly depressed as trauma and tragedy paraded through the door, and people left in tears with empty blankets or holding collars that would never be needed again.  We were so grateful to have our pups back the next day , that handing over all the spending money for my birthday trip, and then some, was a joyous moment indeed.

Maybe Enzo thought it was St. Patrick's Day?

Maybe Enzo thought it was St. Patrick’s Day?

Speaking of birthday trips..there was New York City.  Which did not suck.  Joe and I hopped a train after emptying our wallets at the vet and steamed North.  Crazy kids on a train, not a worry in the world, no sick dog, no bored teenagers, no piteous looks after learning of my advanced age…just us two..forever young, at least on the inside.  So fun..even when the train broke down.  Was I doomed?  Nah..it un-broke.

Hello NYC!  Concrete never looked so good.

Hello NYC! Concrete never looked so good.

Such fun..a lesson in not putting all your eggs in one basket.  If you are counting on a perfect day for anything..a birthday, Christmas, a wedding..whatever..you may end up in a paint ball hell.  Life is full of surprises..some really, really good…like when your NYC Carriage Horse Driver gives you an extra long ride around a snow covered Central Park and then offers to drop you off at an Irish pub on his way back to the stables..your perfect moment might be down the path a bit, but it’s waiting for sure.

Murphy, our ride to the pub.

Murphy, our ride to the pub.