The winter solstice is behind us, so each day is two minutes longer as we creep our way out of the dark nights of winter. In the meantime, I must remember to take off my sunglasses after following along the freeway sound wall and turning onto the mile-long road to my court.
The ten-block drive involves eight crosswalks, one for a small park, one for a large park, two for a school, one for a recreational trail, two for a busy four-way stop, plus three more. Only the rec trail has a lighted signal across the road when someone is approaching.
During these days of long shade, it’s easy to miss a pedestrian if they are wearing dark or drab colors and standing in the shadows. I had an old guy, dressed head to toe in gray, with a gray head of hair, shake his finger at me when he stepped out of the shade. Of course, I couldn’t see him. I wanted to roll down my window and tell him to buy a red hat.
The speed limit is 25 mph, but I go slower than that through the crosswalks. I’ve seen a man get his feet run over right in front of me, by a woman turning off a side street as he crossed in deep shade, three weeks before Christmas. Poor guy.
A friend of mine lives on a boat, and he’s counting the days until summer. The short dark days of winter will get anyone depressed. Living on a boat has got to be a tough gig, but I digress.
Winter is for reading books and sorting through drawers, closets, and tubs of stuff I haven’t looked at in a long while. My winter sweaters are missing. I know they are around somewhere. Will winter be over by the time I find them?
Every year I’m a different size. This year my stomach has allowed me to eat ice cream, so I’m looking for the fat tubs, with sweaters I haven’t worn since 2018. No wonder I can’t find them.
I have way too many books. It’s time to let some go, those I’ve read and haven’t loved so much that I need to keep them. I review books and get review copies for free. My bookcases are full, so I give some of them to the neighbor girls and some to the thrift stores. I just shipped a box of books to my grandson in Boston. Media mail with USPS is the best bargain out there. Daughter mentioned that they didn’t have all the Dr. Seuss books. I stepped into my office and brought out a stack of them. She chose one of each title, and we added them to the box.
The duplicate board books that I either got for free or paid fifty cents for will now go to the thrift store. There’s no need to keep them unless someone surprises me with talk of another grandchild.
Winter is time to get organized while the rain falls and we stay inside, waiting for spring.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 