Winter Images

Can I admit something that has me slightly unnerved?

Last week, I did every single thing on my to-do list. As in, on Sunday morning there was nothing but crossed off items on the list from the week prior and there was absolutely nothing that I was supposed to do last week that needed to get rolled over into this week's to-do list. Let me assure you, this never happens.(Usually at least two rather important items have been kicked down the road each week.)

I mean, things that never get done have been accomplished. On Saturday, I washed the floor, a task that's been on my to-do list, since, I don't know, early summer. In the span of less than five days, I wrote, edited, queried and received payment for an article I'd been thinking about writing for over a month. And look, my Valentine's Day decorations (such that they are) are even up, a good three weeks ahead of schedule. What the heck?

Either I've really taken my new year's resolution and willpower challenge to start each morning at a decent hour and stop procrastinating to heart or else I'm forgetting to do something. Something big. (I am sure my recent burst of productivity has nothing to do with the fact that we're trying to conserve internet bandwidth at the moment, which means Facebook cruising, blog reading and other internet time sucks have been at an all time low - although, honestly, my busy-bee mentality did start before this most recent demise of the internet.)

So while I scratch my head and wonder what exactly it is I'm forgetting to do, here are some photos from the week gone by. (Sorry- no photos of mopping the floor. It was so filthy, I had to change the mop water halfway through. Bleck!)

It's been a windy winter so far and standing out in a bitter north breeze in the middle of the lake to ice fish hasn't sounded like a terribly good idea. So last Wednesday, we drove out on our lake so that we could still get a couple hours of fishing in and not totally freeze.  Don't worry, we tested the ice thickness in several spots before heading out: the thinnest ice we found was 14 inches.  Exercise: 0. Staying Warm and Comfy: A gazillion.

Okay, so the photo above is kind of deceptive. I actually spent most of this particular ice fishing trip inside the truck cab, finishing up Luisa Weiss's A Berlin Kitchen. Hey, it was windy out and it was a darn good book, even if it did make me really hungry. (It's a memoir with recipes.)

On Friday, we discovered what all of that wind was blowing in: snow.  

By the time the snow stopped on Saturday, we'd received a good 6 (8?) inches of fluffy snow. (I always underestimate snow accumulation which is how you can tell I don't own a tourist business in the area. ;P)

The winter forest really does look much better when wearing a snowy coat. I hope the winter enthusiasts are happy now!

Now that's the snow's fallen, the cold temperatures are here. We'll be lucky to see highs on the positive side of zero most of this week. Bundle up! 
 

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What December Will Bring

Oh hey there December and holiday season! While it's been pretty obvious for a while that the year has been wrapping itself up, I'm always surprised when we reach the sunset of another year. It's always like, "Christmas? Again?!"

For whatever reason, this year I've heard a bit about the concept of  passive income. You know, like when you own a rental house. Although I generally give passive income the side-eye since passive income is dependent on having the necessary capital to purchase something that would actually generate money, it's hard to dislike the idea.

Right now, we're in the best financial state we ever been in since reaching adulthood, but that is the result of a lot (a lot) of active income. November and April are normally tied for "blah-est" months in the North woods, but last month was a whirlwind of to-do lists and special projects. While the layout of my days are quite different now that I'm done with the full time, out of the house job for the season, last month I was surprised to find that I don't really have any more free time now that I'm working for home. So if  November was any indicator, this month will not be a gentle and quiet end to 2012.

Here's what's on the docket for December 2012:

• Write a bunch of freelance articles. Hmmm, may have said "yes" to a few too many assignments this months.  
• Interviews. So many interviews for my radio documentary project. Followed by transcribing. So much transcribing. 
• Other contracted work. Oh yeah, that. 
• Finish making this year's batch of venison sausage. We had a bit of meat grinder drama-drama last month that delayed this process -aka, the first meat grinder we bought was totally and absolutely defective. Now we're the proud owners of a 1/2 horsepower Cabela's meat grinder which runs like a champ. We've made 16 lbs of venison sausage this week and will be making some wild rice sausage and chorizo very soon.

• Let the Etsy shop simmer for the month and focus my crafty/knitty energy on finishing up some personal knitting projects, including piecing together this lovely Aran knit afghan. I only knit four of these squares (the dark green ones), the rest were made by the crafting group for a recently married crafter.

• Spend quality time with friends and family who I haven't seen for far too long. While the pounding pavement that accompanies the holiday season can make me weary, I really do look forward to the opportunity to re-connect with some of my favorite people. 
• Find the perfect Christmas tree. Last year's tree was pretty darn perfect, so we'll see how we do. 
• Christmas baking, Christmas cards, wrapping presents, White Elephant gifts, oh my! 

 What are your plans this December? What are you looking forward to this holiday season?

 

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And then Autumn came . . .

I love Fall. It's always been my favorite-iest of seasons. And around here, with the non-stop madness of "go, go, go" that summer brings, we tend to put autumn on a pedestal. I'll admit it - I have ridiculously high expectations for the season this year.

While autumn does mean shorter days and the ever-nearing possibility of snow (oh yuck!), I always find the nip in the air invigorating and grounding. With autumn being the back to school season, we've been conditioned to view fall as a time to buckle down to the serious tasks at hand and to reestablish structure and schedule in our lives. Now is the time to write out business plans, figure the projects that will keep us busy and employed during the snowy season ahead, and to put up the garden's harvest.
 

Here's what I'm looking forward to this autumn:

• Finishing up my garden "putting up" projects: freezing tomatoes and green beans, canning jalapenos and homemade dill pickle relish, making the final batch of pesto.
• Long walks in the woods during grouse hunting season
• The return of a normal work week. As fun as the whole working 13 days in a row has been, I'll be happy when September wraps up and I return to working 5 days a week . . . like a civilized person. 
• Autumn knitting projects 
• Cool evenings 
• Bright blue autumn skies 
• The smell of fallen leaves

In other autumn-ish news:

I made my first sale in the Etsy shop last week. Woot-woot! So I did the only logical thing one should do after their first (very small) sale - ordered a whole bunch of new yarn. I can hardly wait for it to arrive so I can start designing more headbands and other pretty things for the shop.

I also have a bunch of lovely sponsors for September (check out the left sidebar!) who I'll be introducing later this week. If you'd like to join them, it's not too late. Just click here to grab a sponsor spot: ads run for 30 days.

What's your favorite season? What are you looking forward to this fall?
 

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Rules, rules, rules . . . .

 

“Sometimes you have to break the rules around you to keep the rules within you” -Martha Beck 

Any regular reader of this blog has probably identified my affinity for to-do lists.  It's no secret that I like my systems, I like my structure, and I love rules. (After all, I was a hockey referee during my teenage years.) But even as the person who gets nervous whenever I'm in the presence of people talking other people getting into trouble, I realized I've been busy breaking some rules of my own . . . .

Rule #1:  Don't move back to your hometown.

Honestly I have no idea how this happened. Then the other day I read this line in a friend's blog: I still cry every time I leave Minnesota. Maybe that's it.

Although, I love to travel, but I have a hard time really, truly imagining any other place as home. Not that I haven't spent some time imagining.  (Seattle! NYC!! London!!!) Yet there's something about this remote, rural corner of this world that's not quite ready to let me go yet. Or vice versa.

Rule #2: Don't move in with your significant other before marriage. 

Does anyone really respect this rule anymore? A year into our relationship, Andy's and my work briefly intersected and it made the most sense to share a shack/cabin and make a home of our own. Now we feel like we're married and we've skipped the whole part where Andy gets something nice and sparkly for my left hand. Oops. So that's why you don't move in together before marriage . . .

In addition: I talk over people. (I'm so, so sorry. I don't realize I'm doing it until it's too late!) I eat after 8 p.m. I break fashion and beauty rules. We're just up a lawless society up here at the cabin when you get right down to it. But what's the point in letting arbitrary rules our lives and consequently, our hearts?  

Because, there's one rule I know I'll always keep: Don't take life too seriously.

This post is part of Mama Kat's Thursday writing workshop. Thanks for stopping by!

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You Can Do It, I Can Help . . .

Time, time, time . . .see what's become of me . . .

I hear this a lot from people who think they might have a book hiding inside of them or who think they like to pocket it a little extra cash by penning a freelance article. "How," they ask, "How do you make time to write?"

The simple answer to is that writers don't make time to write.  Nobody does. There's no secret elfin factory manufacturing extra hours to the day. (But if there was, no doubt, the elves would chip away at hours and minutes and seconds and days in a tree like this.) We're all given 168 hours each week. How we spend that time is up to us. It's a choice. (Unless of course, you're my friend Sarah who's an auditor and works crazy hours this time of year. If you have a job which swallows your life whole, this time management post is not for you.)

Let's make something clear here: I am by no means the model student when it comes to allotting all the time I could to my writing pursuits. Like everyone else, I'm easily distracted.

But all that wondering about how to become a writer, all that waiting around for the magic key, kind of reminds me of that Mary Oliver quote: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

If you're really serious about being a writer, you need to at least put writing on your to-do list. And then, theoritically, you will do some writing and check it off the list. 

If you haven't noticed, I'm a big fan of to-do lists.I make pretty elaborate to-do lists for each week and am frequently disappointed when Saturday afternoon rolls around and I haven't checked off half of the things on the list. Because here's the issue: I fashion to-do lists with so many items that run the whole gamut of my lifestyle, when I looked at the long list I would get overwhelmed and inevitably I chose the task which requires the least effort on my part. 

Then last week I tried out a tip I found in the latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens: only put two or three things on your daily to-do list. You have to select the very most important things you need to get done in the day (namely, anything you get paid to do) and anything you feel guilty about not getting done, like that writing project. Make each tasks as specific as possible. Don't say "start writing novel." Instead write "outline chapters 1-3." You can't list making supper, hauling in wood, checking the mail or whatever other everyday tasks you're bound to do anyway. (I do however have to list "exercise" on my task list.) I still keep the weekly to-do list and then divvy up my tasks in little bite-sized chunks each day. Let me tell you, it felt really good checking off things on two separate lists and having a completely accomplished weekly to-do list last Saturday evening.

Try it out. If you can wiggle writing time into those few all important tasks you need done each day, you might be pleased at how the words start piling up on the page.

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Back in the Saddle Again

This is me, pretending to be thrilled to be riding Traveler. Ireland 2005

Yesterday, my 2011 day planner showed up in the mail. While this fact in and of itself proves that I'm not totally on board with the 2011 concept just yet, but I was still surprised when I flipped open the planner to this week and realized  . . . we're already approaching the middle of January and, consequently, my middle of January writing deadlines. Wha?!

I feel like January has somehow sneaked in the back door of my life and hasn't bothered to check in at the front desk.

Anyone else feeling like this?

Personally, I blame the holidays. Don't get me wrong, I loved the holidays 2010 style. They were a ton of fun. (Maybe a little too fun?) But I think I contracted something which is referred to as "the Itis" over at the Writer's Den. You know: the "I ate way too much and have spent too much time running around like mad woman" blahs.The "I can't even think about taking down Christmas decorations yet" crazies. Of course, promptly  followed by the "If I don't take down these Christmas decorations soon, I'm going to go crazy" sentiments. 

So yesterday, I welcomed a return to my normal freelance writing life with open arms. Plugging away on one project for a few hours, doing an interview for this article, frantically scribbling a fiction idea onto a Post-It note after I got back from checking the mail.*ahhh* I heaved a huge sigh of relief. At long last, normality!

Last week, I mentioned that I don't do resolutions, but I make goals. Especially when it comes to the writing life. Perhaps no other path in life can evoke more floundering than one like the freelancing writing life where you're completely in charge of your own destiny. It's like that saying my boss at the canoe outfitters used to tell canoeists who didn't think they needed a map: "If you don't have a map you're actually lost; you just don't know it yet." I need yearly writing goals or else I'm apt to sit down at my desk every morning and turn on my computer and fritter away the morning on Facebook "liking" things. Let me tell you, "liking" things does not the bills pay.

Luckily, the mail today also brought not only my 2011 planner, but also the latest issue of Writer's Digest and a copy of The Productive Writer. Just what I need: a gentle nudge in the derriere to spend some time really thinking about writing and getting on paper a set of writing goals for 2010 that will look as faded and tired as last year's goals when Jan. 2012 rolls around.

I'm looking forward to getting down to business, making a plan for 2011 that I can stick with, and getting back in the saddle again.

Has everyone else got a firm hold on the reins of 2011? What are you hoping to accomplish this year -- writing or otherwise?

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Saying Thank You

Thank-you Note I wanted small pierced earrings (gold). You gave me slippers (gray). My mother said that she would scold Unless I wrote to say How much I liked them. Not much.
- Judith Viorst

I'm not sure when it started, middle school probably, but a long time ago, I got on a kick of writing thank-you notes for all the Christmas gifts I received from relatives. Just another manifestation of a good-two-shoes personality, I suppose. Writing the notes made me feel somewhat morally superior, but more than that (and unlike the narrator in the poem above), they made me feel good and more aware of my blessings and gifts.


I still write thank you cards, but they've become more of an obligation: just another line on the to-do lists, something I mean and want to do, but which often get bumped down on the priorities. The thank you notes get sent out later and later each year and I spend more time wondering if I really need to do that again this year.


Yet every holiday season, I am overwhelmed with gifts and an abundance of good food. Beyond gifts of lovely things, this holiday season has also brought  time to spend with family and friends. On Christmas, after all the festivities had wrapped up, my brother came home with Andy and I to spend the night. Yesterday morning we sat in the living room, drinking coffee and talking about life as we know it at this current moment. And I realized something about this life in the cabin. 

It might not be the most exciting life. It certainly isn't the most lucrative. But it's a very happy life.

I believe happiness is an accomplishment. And those who contribute to our happiness deserve more thanks than we can word. And they definitely get a card . . .



Thanks
 
Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is
       -- W.S. Merwin

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A Stirring in My Soul

I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life: Am I living it right?
-- John Mayer

 

Fifteen years ago, my family took our first major family trip. We hopped on the train in Chicago, riding overnight and most of the next day out to Newark to spend a week with a great uncle. We explored the Delaware Gap and one day, we spent in New York City. That day, I viewed the city with wide ten-year-old eyes and promptly decided the city life was the life for me. As an English major, I assumed I’d eventually make my way to the East Coast. But when it came time to chose a college, I went with the only in-state option I’d considered (a wise decision when it came to student debt) and a trip to London shifted my focus to the far side of the Atlantic.

Any good trip forces you to ask questions of yourself and the life you lead and so it has been with this month of travel that came to a close yesterday. Although the “day after Christmas” feelings of yesterday have passed, there remains the quiet suspicion that my ten-year-old soul was of a braver, truer sort than this current soul of mine.

New York was just as fabulous as I remembered it. While I’m old enough to realize that everything that appears “fabulous” comes with its own unique upside and downside, we had such a wonderful week in the Big Apple that it’s hard not to wish for just “one more day.” My credit card bill, stuffed up sinuses and a heap of correspondence and deadlines dictate that it’s time to come home. But before I make a full return to this life of woods and words, here’s a recap in snapshots of the past week.

After being an MTV devotee in my teenage years, I finally made it to Times Square.

 We went to the beautiful New York Public Library with Carrie Bradshaw on our minds and found the original Winnie the Pooh and Friends.

In the end, we didn't cross paths with Carrie, but Burger and his wife (Ron Livingston and Rosemarie DeWitt) did stroll past us on Bleecker Street in the West Village while we were waiting for the Sex and the City tour to resume on Wednesday.

What could be better than a hot dog from Nathan's in Coney Island?

Maybe having a Brooklyn native tell you to "fuggedaboutit" or a cupcake from the Magnolia Bakery. . .

Swung by Tiffany's to take a peep at my favorite engagement ring.

It's soooo pretty. . . . So out of an appropriate price range. . . .



















One of my most vivid memories from my last visit to New York City is seeing the WTC towers from the Empire State Building observation deck. We stopped to see the progress being made on the new tower and the memorial at the World Trade Center. Almost nine years later and no one's still sure what to say.

I've always had a soft spot for Lady Liberty. It was good to see her again.

After going strong as tourists for a week, on Saturday we took a moment to take in some of the quieter wonders of Manhattan before our flights back to Minneapolis.  

 We saw the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and spent a bit of time in the Met's Cloisters.

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

While memories of NYC swirl about in my heart, now it's time to turn my mind to laundry, to-do lists, and packing up the Shack. I'm overwhelmed by all I'm meant to be getting done at this very moment. The only way to overcome that feeling is to actually start getting some things done.

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Home Check In

Some things change when you return home from the Pacific Northwest. For one thing, all the trees seem so small here in the great Northwoods. And they’re really close together.

Some things really change while you’re gone. When we left, ice still covered the majority of the lake. The ice went out completely the day after we left and today was the first time since December that we’ve seen the ripple of open water on the lake. Typically the ice goes out in early May. This irregular spring weather is discomfiting to the point of being scary since its turning the woods into a veritable tinderbox. Fire danger is currently “very high.”

But it’s not all doom and gloom on the home front. The bird feeders that I filled before leaving are empty and this afternoon I brought them in to retire them for the summer. The plant caretaker who stopped by the Shack a couple times to water the plants is worth her weight. Both the African Violet and the Christmas Cactus are showing off lovely blooms and the spider plant is getting ready to throw its first plant since I took in the little guy.

Of course, the house plants aren’t the only things that did some growing in the Shack while we were gone . . . .

Ick! I predict some bleach action in the future.

I had some good writing news waiting for me in my inbox this afternoon. A short story I wrote in December was accepted by my alma mater’s annual literary and artistic journal and actually won this year’s “best prose” award. On the flip side, the couple poems I also submitted were not accepted which reinforces my belief that my writing energy should not be wasted on poetry. I respect a good poet and I fear that good poets are far more talented wordsmiths than I will ever be. However, as someone who seeks to make her living with her writing, I do not have the time to develop my poetry to the extent that it needs development, nor has poetry ever proven especially lucrative.

Speaking of freelancing, I also had an article assignment waiting in my inbox. Am only mildly freaking out about the amount of work I’m supposed to complete upon my true return home at the end of the month.

Right now, writing is not the priority. Laundry and figuring out what to pack for New York City trip are at the forefront of my mind tonight. But first, after nearly two weeks straight of travel, I think a good night sleep in my own bed is in order.

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End of an Era, Ushered in by Marshmallow Fluff

Sunrise after a rainy day 

It’s official: I will go a-waitressing no more. Yesterday I worked my last lunch shift. This means a couple things. For one, today I plan to hand-wash all of the sweaters I wore this winter so I can pack them on the trip and not have them smell of French fries. For another, it means I can start making decent food choices again.

This goes without saying, but when you waitress, your shift always corresponds with mealtime. Although you could grab little snacks as you work, the days I worked, I inevitably didn’t eat lunch until after 3 and dinner often got dished up around 9:30, if not later. By that time, I was always starving and ate the first calorie laden food I spied in the Shack’s kitchen. As much as it pains me to say it, the regimented life of a temp in a cubicle where I was able to schedule each meal and snack was far better for my waistline.

At the Shack we tried to make decent food choices. We try to get around to eating all of the fresh produce before it turns.

 But sometimes, even when we know what’s the right eating decision, our desires get the better of us. There is no better case in point than the fact that we have teeny tin of organic, fair-trade cocoa sitting next to the super family size Swiss Miss.

(What is a super family size any way? 4? 6?) Guess which one gets dipped into more.

I have read The Botany of Desire and while in high school, I read a book called A Teenager’s Guide to Going Vegetarian. I want to be that person who subsists on organic fruits and nuts and who is unmoved by a plate of French fries. I pretend I’m the girl who orders salads when she goes out, but in actuality, I’ve been known to order things called “The Grizz Burger.” (Yup: ½ pound of burger with cheese, more cheese, bacon, mushrooms, tomato, lettuce . . . ) I use the term “loaded” when I talk about baked potatoes. Deep down, I am just American enough to create things in my kitchen that look like this:

 That’s right, marshmallow fluff. A couple neighbors moved out last week and one of them left a 16 oz. bag of marshmallows and a box of Rice Krispies among the groceries for the taking. On Thursday, I couldn’t resist the urge to make a batch of Rice Krispy bars or “crispy cake” as they call it in England. That’s all well and good, except I didn’t need the entire bag of marshmallows to make the bars and have now spent the last few days eating my way through the remaining marshmallows with a marshmallow here, five marshmallows there.

This morning, in a fit of disgust, I threw out the remaining bag of marshmallows. (I think there were about four left.) With the restaurant life behind me, I have much greater control over my schedule and with that comes tighter reigns on both exercise and diet. There’s tofu marinating in the fridge as I write.

Of course, I’m about to embark on a month long vacation. Might not be the best time for such resolutions.

In other news, I’ve found myself missing the novel. After so many months (years) spent with these characters, I feel a little lost without them.

Ah well, I’ll get over it. I have plenty of little tasks to keep me busy today and all week. Both Andy and I are anxious to be far away for a little while and the trick will be to get stuff done this week so there’s nothing to fret about while we’re away.

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The Wonders of Ice

We do a bit of bickering at the Shack. Usually it’s about dishes and bedtimes and why the laundry on the floor never hops into the laundry basket. Sometimes though, it’s about blogging.

Andy’s not a blogger, but as the number one fan of “Of Woods and Words,” he has plenty of insight on what should get posted in this space. For example, he felt this recent blog entry should be called “Of Woods and Turds.” I had something slightly more poetic in mind.

But why “Of Woods and Turds?” Well . . .

We’ve unseasonably warm weather over last week and except from crusty piles here and there, our snow is done for. It’s bad, bad news for local businesses (well, at least for the restaurant; everyone else seems to be plugging along) but it’s made for some beautiful ice conditions on the lake. On Tuesday we headed out on the spongy ice. We found some beautiful designs in the ice. As we headed back towards the Shack, we found something else.


We took to hiking back along the path the dog sled teams used this winter. As the sled dogs start to run, they have a tendency to empty their bowels. Not really a big deal when there’s always the promise of fresh snow to cover up the evidence, but now that we’re almost down to just lake ice, there are tell-tale signs of the trail’s use as a mass toilet all over the ice. In clear pockets of ice along the path rest brown puddles flecked with straw. It is not pleasant. I declined to take any photos.

As you move into the bay, much lovelier ice conditions appear.

There are feathery fingers of frost all across the ice rink.

My favorite feature however is the risen paths that have appeared where the paths and ski trails compacted snow on top of the ice. Now as the rest of the snow melts off the lake’s surface, the trails remain as risen ice bridges across the bay’s surface.

 They remind me of the causeway that connects St. Michael’s Mount to the Cornish mainland near Penzance.

When the tide is out, you can walk the one-mile causeway out to old castle and monastery on the Mount. When the tide’s in, you have to take a boat. St. Michael’s Mount has a mythology wrapped up with giants (though the causeway out to the Mount is not to be confused with Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland), but the ice bridges outside my window right now look more like the work of Jack Frost and fairies.

As much as I like spring, this is far too early for highs in the mid 60s. We are not too far removed from a major wildfire incident to be nervous about dry early springs. In the past few days I’ve seen flies and beetles out. I worry about the natural cycle of things getting too far ahead of itself with this warm weather.

Maybe worrying about the environment is a luxury afforded only to those with little else to worry about. I’m not so sure. Many people have mentioned that in recent years the once pristine water quality of local lakes has declined. I think we have a moral responsibility to think about the effect of the living an everyday life in the woods has on the natural environment and to consider whether the negative changes we note in the environment are tied to our actions. While I fully acknowledge that I’m calling the kettle black here, you have to wonder if this is a corner of the world that’s really meant for septic systems. Should we be here?

This morning it’s spitting snow outside. I’m glad to see it. At least it’s slightly normal March weather. The lake ice has firmed up considerably and now it’s frightfully slippery!

It’s officially cram session at the Shack. On Wednesday night we made a reservation for a rental car. Apart from figuring out how exactly we’re getting to the airport, we’re pretty much set for April travel. But there’s still plenty to do around here before we go. On Wednesday I recorded three radio commentaries to get me through until the end of April. (The commentary is biweekly and the latest commentary is found here.) Yesterday, I turned in my April batch of articles and will likely receive my May assignments today to make up for my April absence. Although there’s a mere 6300 words to revise in the novel WIP, it still needs to get done before the end of the month. Should get some research in at some point too . . . .

Your intrepid blogger, hard at it. Hot . . . or not? ;)

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Spring Fever

Last night at work, I brought the vats of chili and soup out to the walk-in coolers outside and took a big whiff of fresh air. It smelled green and earthy and moist. “Smells like spring,” I told the cook.

In the last week, as melted snow has started to pour down roofs in rivulets, we’ve all gotten a touch of spring fever. It seems Orion, the constellation that marks the passing of winter, is running hastily out of the night sky. The once frozen outside world that smelled only of pine and sunflower seed on warm days is being push aside to make room for a new sensory world that smells awake, albeit, a bit groggy. The puppies that lived on the lake with their sled dog counterparts all winter headed home today. Although the sled dogs have a couple more tours to give this winter, the warm weather has turned their lake home into a puddle. So they’re off to their summer homes and will return for their scheduled tours.

Yes, it’s too early for mud season, but nonetheless, the road from the Shack to the main road is a pile of slush and muck. While it’s easy to be deluded into a sense of imminent spring, we’re all pretty confident that we haven’t seen the last of winter yet. That’s just how seasons are in the great north woods.

Things are falling into place for the coming summer. While it’s tempting to focus on wonderful things to come, that’s not my best plan. Currently I have a to-do list too long to fit on a Post-It note. Why is there always something that not getting the attention it deserves?

It’s International Women’s Day today. I shall celebrate by writing one article, two commentaries and finishing a chapter. What better way to celebrate the day then doing what I want to do? I am a truly privileged young woman blessed to have the biggest struggles in getting what I want be internal. I have a lot, a lot of amazing women from the past and present to thank for that.

Off to work, more later . . .

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