It’s a door. *shrugs* I dunno.
“What’s in it?”
I dunno.
“Where were you?”
I dunno.
“When was it taken?”
May 1, 2018
Maybe it’s the box they lock the winter in. You don’t know.
#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.
The week is finally over and the crazy cold has gone. It’s 28F/-2C. I’m no meteorologist, but that sounds pretty average to me. All the cold just affirms to me I’m where I should be. I could probably live happily anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon and east of the Mississippi.
Has it been awhile since I gleefully recounted my gratitude to be home? I feel like it has. And yet, this week, every time someone bitched about the weather, I thought, “Meh, it’s as it should be.”
Some winters are brutal, others are mild. The cold should burn your nose several times each winter. I demand snow. I want icicles. Did you know if you live in southeast Georgia for seven years, it may only snow once, and not accumulate? You’d never see an icicle in southeast Georgia. You’d see snow on palm trees, which is pretty cool, but definitely not my idea of snowy trees. Spring here is glorious. Spring tosses up bright, colorful bulbs and green grass. The incredibly verdant splendor of spring makes my heart sing. Every day, something new blooms. Spring in southeast Georgia was just a day when all the azaleas bloomed and I said, “Ooh! Aaah!” and that was that. Spring here is also wet as fuck and brings with it mud, mud, and more mud. There are floods and wet shoes and wet dogs and umbrellas bent over backwards. Fuckin whirlygigs all over the place, rooting to make new trees. Snow and ice still visit us in spring here. When, as I’ve heard this week, Hoosiers say, “That should be the last of it!” in January, I check a box in my brain noting this person is only with us in spirit. Although rare, it has snowed in May where I live. Summer is my least favorite, but then, summer brings all the fruit and fruit is my favorite. Have you even grown tomatoes? Have you ever gorged on watermelon? Pullin stuff outta the garden right and left, like, “LOOK WHAT THE EARTH MADE!” Sunflowers, okay? PETRICHOR. Summer is hot and sticky and full of mosquitoes and sunburn is a health hazard. It gets hot as blazes here, over a hundred some days and you can’t properly enjoy soda or alcohol because you have to drink water all goddamned day just to stay alive. Aggressive fucking YELLOW JACKETS! But we get lightning bugs and majestic thunderstorms, although not at the same time. When I’m red-faced and weak and itchy, I KNOW it won’t last forever. Summer in southeast Georgia is eternal. I arrived in June, did my very best to hibernate, and then when I was putting up my Christmas tree with open windows, I called my mother (Florida native) to ask her when the hell I’d ever be able to wear a sweatshirt. “Maybe February,” she said. I threw out most of my warm clothes when I lived in Georgia. When I left Georgia, I owned 14 pairs of open-toe shoes. As far as I could tell, fall in southeast Georgia simply meant people decorated their houses with things that are organic in Indiana — bales of hay, dried corn, a scarecrow. Everything just turned a darker shade of brown or a lighter shade of tan. Pumpkins couldn’t be out in that heat. Pumpkins were indoor decor, needed the a/c. Wear a tank top, not to the punkin patch, but to the BAMBOO FARM, pick strawberries, not apples, in the fall. And don’t forget the sunscreen! Here in Indiana, fall is idyllic. Fall is spotted with every warm color under the sun. The foliage is spectacular. Everywhere you look it’s orange or yellow or red and this landscape, a green carpet littered with red and orange and yellow against a blue sky, this sight catches your breath in your chest because it’s so incredibly beautiful and you’re in it! Boots! Fall is also wet as fuck here. In the fall, it floods and there are wet shoes and wet dogs and umbrellas bent over backwards. The gutters choke on the beautiful leaves, we slide on the beautiful leaves, and once they’ve sat, heavy and wet, they’re a rusty, murky shade of brown that presents a moldy odor that some of us cannot get enough of. That smell, accompanied by the smell of burning leaves is the quintessential smell of autumn, and for me, sheer bliss. And it might snow. And here, it is always “tornado season.”
If you live in a place like mine, you know. There are extremes in the heights of each season. Each season does what it’s supposed to do and lovers of four-season weather enjoy it for what it is — another passing phase. For people who are truly happy in four seasons, there’s a mentality of adaptability that may well translate outside our ever-changing landscape. Four-season people know how to take the bad with the good, as it seems a small price to pay for snow, but also tulips and tomatoes, and Lord Almighty, have you seen the fall on this place?!?
For other people, not so much. For me, crucial to my well-being. Feast yo eyes.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘affirm’ is brought to you by LindaGHill
It’s 10:30 and I am home.
I am so glad to be home.
FIL is here. Say hi to Papaw, Everyone. It’s not every day I come home to Papaw in my green chair. It’s not every day he has plans to come into the city the snow forces him to sleep on the sofa chez nous.
We went to TWO high schools tonight. Sometimes that happens. You’d think one parent goes one place and the other parent goes to the other, and we do, but sometimes the things are special, and both parents go to one and the other kid gets butthurt. Fortunately it’s not the same kid every time. Well, at least not here.
Sometimes one kid’s thing, or her part of the thing, gets done in time to see the other kid do her thing.
And tonight was magical that way.
It is an awesome night to be me. The mommer pride tide is high. Floods of tears! Swells of joy!
Alas, the only door of interest today:
But is it a door?
YES! Yes it is!
Tis like a barn door, but with metal.
I really love dooring, and I love y’all, but I love myself and value my personal safety and so I did not cross the lot of cars driven by a thousand frenzied parents in order to get a single shot.
#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.
Big snow tonight. No one I’ve talked to knows how much snow’s coming. Probably because they’re all people who are busy working and parenting and driving. There’s a polar vortex ya know. It’s all snowy and slippery. It’s a bit warmer now. Oh yeah, it’s 12 now. Woot.
My biggest complaint is that my warmest coat is my Simon jacket (twas my nephew’s) I took it because I thought it’d be nice for working in garden, particularly when it was stick carryin time. It’s all stained and holey like some teenager boy wore it every day all the time for five years. It’s way too hot to wear at stick time. It’s also too hot to wear in the spring when I roll the leaves back. It is ideal for temperatures hovering around zero, but it’s slightly embarrassing to wear it to things. Goes great with my gray knit boots. So sensible. *rolls eyes* Hand to God, it’s like wearing the heaviest pelts of the ugliest animals.
I want a bright and happy puffy coat. Bright and happy. And I want bright and shiny gold boots. Ferreal. Keep an eye out.
Gonna be almost 60 this weekend. I might see some doors.
And THAT is my last JusJoJan Jot! Yayyy!
I reckon I can jot.
Jot jot jot.
Remember January 2019? It was work, drive, jot, sleep.
And so was January 2018.
And there’s just one more day of jotting. I need to rustle up a door… Can I though? Can I?
That cold came. It’s cold. It’s zero. The wind is bitey. There’s a delay at school tomorrow, which I fail to understand, as when they go, it will be a whopping one degree instead of negative three degrees… not sure it’s worth the fuss.
Fuss. That’s what I’ll do if I jot any further. I shall go lie down now.
Well, it’s Tuesday, and despite honoring the Tuesday with two layers of pink clothing to ward off any bad juju, I had to go back to the doctor for another round, or should I say, an upgrade in antibiotics? Yay. Don’t get me wrong, I remain astounded by modern medicine, just not how I want to spend time.
Also, I miss my retired doctor. We had a good relationship. Or, I did. If he really cared about me, he’da worked until I died even though he’d been my doctor since I was 11 and people don’t usually work until they’re 120 years old. He wanted to travel and write. The gall of him. Pfft.
Otherwise, it was a good day. I crossed two things off my list. I broke into my orange slices.
Wicked cold comes this way tomorrow. The Indianapolis Star and everyone I talked to today told me so. Thank you, Wisconsin. We’d really hoped for your August weather, but clearly we’ll be getting your January weather instead.
“Wednesday’s high is 1 degree below zero, coupled with wind chills of up to 33 degrees below zero and wind gusts that can hit up to 25 mph. The temperature low is expected to drop 7 degrees below zero on Wednesday night, with wind-chill values as low as 20 degrees below zero, according to the National Weather Service.”
Winter ProTip: It’s easier to stay warm if you hop or stomp and swear with every breath.
Now, that’s warmer than had been predicted and as I’ve mentioned, weather is relative. People so dramatic, “IT’S COLDER THAN ANTARCTICA!” I roll my eyes. Sometimes it’s hotter here than in Florida, okay? Still, even I, lover of winter, think that’s too cold. I know I’ll survive because several years ago, I stood at the bus stop for over a half hour with my kids when it was -19 feels like -40 and I lived. I don’t know why we had school then but not tomorrow. So inconsistent. Schools and universities are closed tomorrow. There’s work, of course. Not too keen on drivin in the snow squalls, though. The Mister took the day off and said he will drive me to work. I will like that.
I like my husband.
Soon, I’m going to bed. I also like bed. It’s especially nice on a very January Tuesday.
Lemme show you.
See, first, when I arrived at work, there were orange slices on my desk.
A HUGE container of orange slices. Way more orange slices than I should ever be left alone with, okay? Office Assistant is always buying us yummy snackies and so I went to Mentor, “Did Office Assistant bring you a special treat, too?’
Mentor answered flatly, “No she did not, and she didn’t bring you a special treat, either.”
“Did you get me these?”
“I did!”
“YAYYY!”
That was so nice!
The glare is over the serving size, because they don’t want me to know that the serving size is half an orange slice four times a year.
At noon, I went out for the prompt of the day photo was ‘sky’. Please note this photo is in color, it was truly noon, and yes, that is the bleary sun.
Snow and freezing rain on their way.
Then I came back in to eat my jello and my apple, and I realized, I had a bit of a green theme goin on today.
Yes, there is something wrong with my hands, but you knew that, don’t stare.
I managed to eat my yogurt this afternoon, but I never did get to my orange slices. I wonder if they miss me the way I miss them?
How was your Monday? Any sweet treats? Colorful surprises? Impending weather changes?
I did all my laundry yesterday.
Today I made spaghetti carbonara.
And that’s all the jot there is.
Additionally I must do this SoCSing thing and I think more like ADD, not me, but plenty of people in my life, distracting themselves while I’m over here like “FOCUS!” but then in truth, I could afford to not focus quite so muchly and that is the way of brains. So go our differences.
Adding is better than subtracting, because borrowing. I cannot borrow in my head. It changes two numbers at once. Adding only adds more numbers when you carry. But in subtraction, it’s borrowing and carrying. I can’t keep track of errant numbers wanderin round my head, runnin into lists and data storage. I don’t have a number lasso for fuck’s sake. There’s no border collie in there, herding the numbers around. By the way, it’s called regrouping now, the borrowing and carrying.
Also, math comes with properties now. I’m not sure when math got properties, but sometime after I got a bachelor’s in Not-Math and before Moo got to 4th grade. Her brother and sisters already knew about the properties, but I had remained blissfully unaware. Maybe it’s always had properties and they were withheld from me. No idea.
Sometimes I argue about math with one of my teacher friends. She contends the new math is awesome and I’m like how can you grasp that mystical sudoku bullshit computation and yet you struggle with the right usage of ‘your?’ and that, too, is the way of brains.
I have now written a post about math and so it’s time for me to go away and question who I am and what it all means.
The January. It is eternal.
I just got home. I JUST GOT HOME. I am still dressed. It’s an utter atrocity.
I took my shoes off. My brown booties though, my favorite pair. Any time I wear them, I look down and smile, “Y’all are so cute!”
I’ve had these since we moved home. They’re wedges. They’re getting worn out. They’re resplendent with goodliness and character. One day they will die and I will be sad, so I don’t wear them very often.
I had an extremely productive day at work. It was so satisfying. I finished things. Mentor had a brainstorm at 2am and brought me her ideas thought to fruition at 10am and by 11am I had processed that brainstorm and was making progress. I walked by her door, “Good talk! Good talk!” Wow did we power through!
We had yummy yummy working lunch with the bosses and that, too, was productive.
Then I went to the school where The Mister and I both played usher for the theatre, then I watched the show and he guarded? the doors. I saw a lot of people I enjoy. I kissed The Mister during intermissions and that was ooh la la. After, I took some people here and there and thank heavens, CAME HOME.
Bit of go off and on tomorrow, but it should be the good kind. Yay!
HAPPY FRIDAY EVERYONE!
These doors are brought to you by Moo, who knows good doors when she sees them. She spotted these in Kitty’s snowy yard and sent them to me so that well all may enjoy them.
Thank you, Moo.
#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.
joeyfullystated 
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