I got up in the middle of the night with the dear old geriatric dog because once she shakes her ears around, we've got about 90 seconds until she's really, really got to go out. As I stood at the sliding door I could hear the water flowing off the roof, down the hills, into the storm drains and off to the sea.
It's melting. The Solstice Storm lasted through Boxing Day, but now, I think it's over.
And my Christmas feasting is over too. No more splitting a bottle of wine over dinner. No more rice dream egg nog and rum. No more cream and butter and shortening and cheese on everything.
No more wearing the only two pair of jeans that fit!
I'm going on a tare. I'm not doing it here, but over at my regular person blog. Everyone is invited to come to the "eat real food, move a little, remember to love my life" story going on over there. And if that's what you're doing too, well then let me know that I'm not alone and I'm not completely off my rocker. Please!
In Minnesota the melt always brings a little weirdness to everyone who has been cooped up. Bring it on, baby! Bring it on!
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