the crazy stops here…every fifteen minutes

I hope this letter finds you well, and I want to express my gratitude regarding the foot of snow you’re dumping on the Mid-Atlantic instead of Western North Carolina this weekend . I’ll take some sleet and freezing rain over a foot of snow any day.

Surely you must realize that I am one of your biggest fans. I recycle, I compost. I capture your best work on my digital camera whenever the opportunity presents itself- the frosting you paint our stunning landscape with, your plentiful and intricate wildflowers I love so much, the fall color show- I respect and admire your work a great deal. You’ll recall that I treat all of your creatures with respect, and most of them with tenderness and affection. I even use minimal effective response when your bugs or mold or other necessary but undesirable creations threaten my garden or invade my home. I have nothing but the deepest respect for you.

You are, without a doubt, the most formidable woman in the universe, and I humbly submit that I well know when I’m outranked.

As such a strong and independent woman, surely you have a soft spot in your heart for another formidable woman, yes? I thought I would write to let you know, in case you missed it (you have been busy lately, haven’t you!)- I’m working hard to navigate my first winter as a single rural girl.

I don’t mind hauling wood through the yard in wheelbarrows and sleds to keep my house warm when you send us bitter temperatures. I understand that this weather is probably more than my pansies can handle, and I will cheerfully lay them to rest in the compost pile. (by the way, I’m saving my Christmas tree for summer bonfires- see the respectful way in which I treat your creations?) We all understand that it is February, and that wishing or asking for naked weather is asking too much of you and expecting you to be something you’re not. I would never do that.

I will, however, ask you for some mercy. See, I have a little fiberglass and aluminum two wheel drive car. The weather you’ve been sending our way for the past two or three weeks has significantly hindered my social life and my ability to work in and enjoy my humble office (filled to the gills with your fabulous tropical plant line, just sayin’) or meet the attendance requirements for my class. Friday afternoon was petrifying- driving home in thick slush, with those nasty diesel semi trucks throwing dirty slush on my windshield and blinding me as I struggled not to slide off of the side of I-40. If I hurt myself, I can’t do my wood chores and now I’m out of kerosene. If something happens to my car, I can’t afford to replace it, and if I can’t get to work, then we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.

So please, please, from one strong and independent woman to another- could you just exercise the last of your wrath for WNC this winter next week, whilst I’m in Arizona? You are sending me a few rainy days in the desert, and I understand why- I realize that you can’t just up and give me a week of sunny dry heat. I can live with that, but Mother Nature, I just don’t know how much more snow and ice I can take.

Love and Kisses,

a very tired and weary verybadcat

This week has been hectic; work and school have both resumed their pre-holiday pace, and the impending weather has only served to lengthen my perpetual to do list. I seem to have come down with a cold, which isn’t exactly a productivity aid.

Amidst the chaos, there are a few quiet moments in which I have the time and mental energy to reflect on things, to check in with myself and examine the bigger picture.

What I see in that reflection are a thousand tiny miracles.

A huge pile of kindling left for me in my basement. Compliments from old acquaintances and strangers on any number of things, but most delightfully on my writing. Stronger relationships with my neighbors, and my discovery that I do indeed bring something to the table- that I have something to offer them in return for removing dead fall from my prized azalea bush.

A new sense of confidence and determination- which is just what I need to make the shift from surviving to thriving. Being offered the opportunity to escape (for a week!) the harshest winter I can remember in the Southeast, and for the first time, not being suspicious of my manager for making it happen for me. My darling baby sister has found some sorely deserved happiness, professionally and personally. My Mom had her chemo port taken out this week, and is officially in remission. B picking up a few snowpocalypse supplies for me and refusing to let me pay her for them. Finding myself choosing to try something I never would have just a few years ago, and being terribly excited about it.

The big changes, the sweeping developments, the turning points in life are few and far between. Most of adult life is a sea of conflicting wants, needs, responsibilities, commitments and opportunities. Truly, the greatest blessing any of us can hope for is to live and love in a way that litters our existences with those thousand tiny miracles.

Their presence and my awareness and appreciation of them send me a clear message:

I’m doing something right.

It feels wonderful.