Rock-a-bye those blues

Come on, rise and shine.
Sure it’s cold, though bright I’m told.
Rock-a-bye those blues.

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Living in the moment

So what if I live in a state recognized for having the most miserable winters, and there’s snow everywhere?

This morning our sky is blue, the sun strong, and the temps are above freezing.

“Carpe diem,” I proclaim to the petite four legged pack before me, tossing each a toasty treat as I leave my house for work.

And fortunately I’ve packed a treat just for me.

I’ve built in a special 20 minute detour.

It’s just enough time to take a quick walk by the lake.

After parking my car, I cross a bridge to an empty, yet sandy beach.

Sure, the sand’s buried deep below the white stuff, but just knowing it’s there makes me smile.

Walking forward I notice the concession stand’s empty. There are no long lines for the cold sodas and hot dogs listed on the red weather beaten sign.

Still a chilled, yet warm bicyclist races by giving me a friendly wave while speeding towards the middle of the frozen lake.

“Why the rush?” I ask, too late for him to hear.

Probably to join the ice fishermen I figure, continuing my march down towards the water.

I cut through a small park on the beach, admiring a little blue boat.

The tiny boat brings back memories of kids, canines, and camera shots.

With hopes for more of the same in the months ahead.

I then notice someone’s dragged a picnic table to meet the frozen shoreline. I move towards it and climb on top of the table.

I pull out a still steaming thermos of french roast from my backpack.

I take a sip, and briefly close my eyes.

I feel the sun on my cheeks.

I hear the quiet.

And I find myself thankful to be living in this moment.

Especially in January.

January’s for the dogs

“What’s up, Maddie?” I asked my solemn looking corgi this morning as I joined her down on the floor next to the dog bed.

Lame, this sweet girl’s over 94 in dog years. I’m trying to keep an extra eye on her to make sure she’s cozy in these cold winter months.

“Is it a case of the post holiday blues?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t something more.

She seemed to nod, and then pointed her wet nose towards the cupboard where the dog treats are stored.

“Maybe you’re missing those red and green rawhide candy canes Santa brought Christmas Eve?”

I turned around to find Maddie adorned once again in her favorite holiday halo, looking hopeful.

Apparently I was right.

But I knew those candy canes were long gone.

I had to get creative.

“Maddie, you’re such a turkey. How about half a sandwich of the same?”

Though my girl’s a Welsh Corgi, her adopted heritage is Swedish, so I added some left over holiday ligonberries just to sweeten her mood.

Maddie gobbled it down in record speed, licking her lips.

“Was it good?” I inquired.

Maddie gave me her best ‘you betcha” smile as she drifted dreamily into another one of her long winter’s naps.

And I soon did the same.

Just smile

Winter blues can bring you down.
So buddy, turn that frown around.
And if you do, you’ll surely smile.
One happy smile should last a while.

Oh what a gift. It’s such a lift.
Our winters are too long.
So grin away, as best you may.
Till we hear a robin’s song.

January Joy?

January and I have never been the best of friends.

Or winter either, as it turns out.

I was grumpy when I read the other day that my home state of Minnesota has just won first prize for having the most miserable winters. http://minnesota.cbslocal.com/2017/01/04/uff-da-minnesota-ranks-no-1-on-most-miserable-winter-list/

But it wasn’t exactly a surprise and I didn’t need the reminder as I was about to start my third miserable commute of the week, and it was only Wednesday.

Once I arrived at the local skating rink called a freeway, I knew I needed to de-stress some.

I started by turning off Trump’s press conference on the radio in favor of classical music for a while.

Well, actually any music I could find.

I figured if I wanted to hear anger and frustration I could simply listen to the cranky drivers honking around me.

Still feeling restless an hour later, I thought I’d best compose a January mantra to chant during the rest of my prolonged commute:

“I’m thankful each night for those two frozen pumpkins glued next to my old storm door. These orange stoppers keep that door from blowing in the wind, allowing the dogs and me to snore away in heavenly peace.”

“I’m thankful for those dogs. They make for wonderful foot warmers at home and my pack takes their task seriously.”

“And I’m very thankful for my new calendar. It shows the month of January’s almost half over.”

I’m calling that progress.

That’s more than I can say for the roads, however.