I am somewhat relieved to know I am not the only one who, on a day as hot and sticky as today, limply thinks “tea-cakes.”
As part of Severe Weather Awareness Week, the local WeatherGuy gave us a brief report on hail this morning. Apparently hail is common during New England summers, and, since it can be quite large and fall at speeds of up to 100 miles an hour, poses a significant threat to property and people.
(Common? I’ve only seen it five or six times in a lifetime of New England summers. One of those times, I was clonked on the head with a plummeting chunk of ice, and felt lucky to get away with only a goose-egg lump on my head, so I can wholeheartedly agree with his assessment of the suddenness and the danger.)
WeatherGuy concluded with the remark, “So, hail can be quite hazardous and can appear quite suddenly, giving you no warning or time to seek shelter, so, er, keep that in mind when you’re out enjoying yourself this summer.”
One more semester is hurtling toward its close. At this point, I always suffer from something akin to vertigo: my expectations and my backlog of work have climbed to staggering heights, and the hasty plummet is sickening.
Therein is a perfectly good explanation for my absence from these pages. With three papers weighing heavily on me (one is due tomorrow, in point of fact) and thousands of pages to read, I thought the best time management plan was to bugger off for a few days of fun. My weekend included unplanned meetings with old friends, shopping, an afternoon at the museum, a trip to the bead and yarn shop, an evening in the pub with girlfriends, and a long late talk with the dear friend I stayed with.
I also paid a long overdue visit to my much-valued longtime barber; although I moved out of town several years ago, I manage to see her a few times a year, bringing her desperate cases of Hair By Misadventure. Once again, she has coifed me but good.
Maybe is the haircut, maybe is the new shoes*, or maybe is the delirium of academic panic, but I feel gooood. Dangerously, flirtatiously good. A change has definitely hit this small patch of New England: the wind is crisp and fragrant, birds are chirping, green shoots are transformed into great blooms of scent and florid color,
bloggers are noticing that their male acquaintances smell really great: it must be spring.
*Expect more on the shoes later — so embarrassingly much more.
Happy New Year, and thanks to Elli and J-M for getting the blog up and running again!
I’m sitting in my toasty little bedroom, listening to the wind outside rise from a low moan to a keening howl, again and again. The local weather forecast warns of “dangerous lows” for the next few days. Brrrr. My thoughtful Mom called this morning to ask if I had any errands; she wanted to be sure that I wouldn’t be out at the bus stop, getting frostbite. How sweet — I did have errands, and was dreading the prospect.
Before Mom and I went to the library, the post office, and the grocery, Dad took us out for lunch. M & D had sandwiches; I ordered coffee and chocolate mousse. Oh, hush. It’s important to know what you want in life, and what I want is chocolate. The mousse was 86ed, so our server brought me chocolate decadence — in this case, a slab of pure ganache or possibly fancy fudge, topped with almonds. Yum. Fudge with French fries (filched from M & D’s surplus) turns out to be a nice lunch, once a year.
I have to admit that this lunch doesn’t conform perfectly to my New Year’s resolution, which is to eat more éclairs. (I do like a cheery goal.)