I was aghast to rise and see winter on the trees, and settled on the lawn... my calendula are covered over in a snowy blanket, so there are no more crops. I bagged the last dry florets today... I'm overcome with that gripping numb reality that says, "snow tires NOW", "get the clothespins in NOW", and who can forget "wear your boots/wipe your feet NOW"...
Experiencing the first snow is like losing your virginity... You can't say "I didn't like that, so I want to go back a be a virgin again." No matter how unpleasant the experience, you are changed... I'm at the other end of the spectrum. Winter's arrival is like menopause's arrival - cold, hard, fast and not predicted. My emotional landscape is covered in some schizophrenic blanket of crap and I easily fall and slip in it.
Like tonight. So not a stellar night to be writing anything the world will read. Except to say a dear friend, while visiting on the weekend, suggested I have too many spatulas. I countered that not all of them are for the same purpose, and I am writing a cookbook - all kitchen tools are on deck these days. She didn't believe me... she thinks I'm hoarding spatulas. Weird Al Yankovic and I are maybe the only people in the world who appreciate spatulas - he pays homage to them in a video where the protagonist goes to "Spatula World". I should apply as regional manager of Spatula World.
Maybe it's not menopause after all... maybe it's the attack on my culinary tool collection. I suggested I might take some spatulas up to the bedroom - isn't that a novel usage? My visiting friend just laughs at me, and says she misses my humour. Good thing she lives far away when I've slipped on my hormonal nightmare and landed in the sewage.
However, my husband, who turned 61 today, is knee-deep in the menopausal morass. He hasn't had a celebrated birthday. Didn't want a cake, so I baked him a pumpkin pie. It's the first time I didn't get him a card. I wasn't out, and e-cards are kinda crass - I'd rather not go there... We've worked hard lately, and it's a good thing the van needs extensive servicing in Guelph. He'll be away all day and I'll have the house to myself, to quietly work on jewelery commissions. I think a day away in Guelph and some time apart is good for us.
When he comes home, the snow tires will be on the van... I'll have the clothespins in the house, and a boot mat by the front door, with a place to wipe one's footwear. Maybe by that time, I'll meet him at the door with nothing on but a smile and a spatula clenched between my teeth. Yeah, right.