Lost the Funny

Nothing was blogworthy yesterday. All the chocolate I mainlined didn't change my attitude much. Everything was failing the test of "supposed to be":

• It's supposed to be warmer at this time of year, more than 35 degrees, please.
• It's supposed to stop raining, sometimes.
• The sun is supposed to come out, once in a while.
• The snow is supposed to stop by mid-April (I'd like to think so, anyway).
• Even, traffic is supposed to be lighter during school vacation week in Massachusetts, yet it wasn't.

Today was marginally better, even if I did have to reach for tissues reading the newspaper this morning (one of the teachers who died in the school shooting survived the Holocaust, only to die protecting his students from this ... this ... words fail me). It's still gray, still cold and raw, but at least not snowing today. Grateful for small favors, indeed.

On the plus side, the sweater is coming nicely:


Next step, sleeves! I finished the first one tonight waiting for the car's oil change. And there's also the neckband, which will be the blue, too. Exciting stuff in knitland, if nowhere else.

And this weekend, I travel to upstate New York to celebrate my grandmother's 94th birthday. That's no small blessing!

I had ice cream for dinner, which is a small thing but it makes me happy. It's one of those things for me, those "if I have to be a grown-up" things. If I have to be a grown-up, and it's going to be cold and raw and rotten and gray and rainy for 87 days in a row ... I'm having ice cream for dinner.

It was good.

I have to go now. Kitty informs me he is not done shedding on me. I was late getting home (the oil change, the grocery store), and he's behind schedule. I'm a bit like Peter Falk at the beginning of The Princess Bride, bursting into his sick grandson's room and asking, "How's the sickie?" Lately what Pan wants, short of biting my fingers (one must draw the line somewhere), he's getting.