Relative Comfort

Last night, as I came in from feeding Claire and Honey their last meal for the day at around 7 p.m.

I was staring up at a purely magical crescent moon – with a sneaky Christian cross shimmering behind it (no doubt placed there at the request of Peter Sheridan) – contemplating how just a few degrees on the Fahrenheit Scale made all the difference in the world.

It started to warm up yesterday morning, and once it crossed the zero degree F Rubicon I felt like Spring was almost here. The mules looked comfortable basking in the radiant reflection of the January sun off of Geppetto’s studio.

Indeed, when the temperature rose to a toasty 4 degrees, all bets were off, as well as my socks, as I got to make my Hobbit version of a Sasquatch print in the snow.

Yes, the magic had reappeared at Casa Claire, so much so, that when the brilliant creative Celtic genius, writer and filmmaker, Colin Broderick, sent me a text sharing his magical snowy view from his writer’s retreat, back east,

I stood up from my own writer’s desk, pulled up the shades, and snapped my own version of winter magic outside my office window.

And sent it right off to my magical friend and mentor.

Notice how every writer worth their salt has an empty chair carefully positioned outside facing out towards the world. It is the repository of the writer’s astral being, as it sits and contemplates humanity. It’s a thing, look it up.

Anyway, I’m hoping that the Universe has completed its latest reminder that we (the creatures on this blue planet) should never become complacent as we remain subject to the whim of Mother Nature. As far as this sentient being is concerned, I have a renewed appreciation of the simple things, like being able to exit my house without the chance of an exposed appendage freezing and snapping off. When you get to my age, you never know when you need to pee, even outdoors in a pinch, and every appendage matters.

And just as I’m sitting here relishing the upswing in the temperature,

The Universe sends me its fuck you Tommy, not so fast warning,

Damnit, I was so enjoying that brief spell of complacency. Stay tuned. Where are my socks?

Well, I better get moving, I have kitties to cuddle and rounds to make, then a reply brief to work on.

For you fine, five readers, we’ve again reached that Hump in the week. Get your skates on and wave at Friday at the summit.

And no matter what else we do, let us make today a great one.