In the Northern Hemisphere, in the US, things have been fucked up all year, by which I mean 2021. (It was supposed to be better than 2020!) It sucks.
Those of you living on the North American continent are aware know how cold it’s been this winter, yeah? And, I don’t know about you, but our ground has been covered with snow for longer than I have, I think, ever seen. And least, in my remembered history.
And you know how I feel about winter. Well, I have Wee One (WO). Am I going to deprive my child of the chance to frolic in the snow because I am an old curmudgeon? No. I’ll put on my big girl panties (and base layer and wool sweater) and go out with her.
I’ve been having a lot of fun. I got proper snow pants in preparation for time outside with her, and waterproof gloves, so I’m considerably drier and warmer and I can sit down. I’ve been outside twice as much this month as I was in February last year. (The two years I’ve been keeping track. Tryin’ to get WO outside for 1000 hours this year.)
I feel like I need to write about today. That Wee One will want to know. That history will want to know.
Today, Biden and Harris were declared the winners of our elections. He wasn’t my first choice in the primaries, but I’m good with him.
But wow – a woman is the Vice President elect. The Vice President! And a Black woman! An Indian woman! A first generation American! For the first time in American history, a woman is in the second highest office of my government.
It’s kind of fun to have a whole bunch of draft posts that I haven’t gotten to and revisit. I stumbled on this one from November 2019, four sleeps before Election Day. Looking back, these were the halcyon days.
The impeachment hearings began last week, and if the next few weeks of testimony are like the first, it’ll be pretty damning. (Not that is fucking mattered.)
Over night has been rainy, but it’s now dry enough to sit on the pathway in my neighborhood. It’s chilly for August. I’m in long sleeves.
My daughter just called me, but I think she got distracted. We went on a search for mud this morning; my headache demands an outing with little exertion.e
Now she’s sitting under a tree, digging. She’s wearing a new dress we got yesterday that is, miraculously, not really getting dirty. What a good play dress.
There’s a horse farm across the street, but they have corn growing this year, too. When I look up over the fields, the broad leafed trees behind them and a mist settling on them, I always get lost in imagining flying over them or being surrounded by them. Like that bird calling right now.
It has been 23 years since the accident. 23 years, today. What a 23 years.
Now she wants me to shake bush limbs over her head to pretend it’s raining on her. Those grey clouds tell me real rain is coming again.