This winter is moving too slowly out of the Mississippi valley for this cornfed woman. Although snow is no longer interested in our back yards there have been two hail storms. Funny little ice balls bouncing and pinging off the ground, a strange and interesting comedy, until you realize your car is parked outside, there is a new roof on your townhouse and your springtime perennials are only four delicate inches high. The wind today has a arctic chill spinning me around and I am tired of cringing when I walk out the front door. Susan is the solution for many negatives in my life and besides that she lives in San Diego. California.
So I'm sliding out of this brown and grey town and will fly above the winter clouds for that sweet destination. I've packed my mother-of-pearl earrings and turquoise necklace and I only wear these things when I am at the ocean. They feel strangely out of place on the prairie. I am nursing yet another upper respiratory infection (does anyone ever get the lower kind?) so I will stuff myself full of antihistamines before I climb into that pressurized cabin. Once while flying to Virginia I had a head cold and failed to take the meds and I spent the next week sounding like I was talking from the bottom of a well and conversation was wasted on me. If you're sick, stay out of the stratosphere.
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