Well, it's St. Patrick's Day, and while I'm not Irish, that's no excuse!
I was married to an Irish Catholic from Boston.
My son has half that man's genes.
I suppose that makes me Irish by injection?

In addition, it is my sister's birthday. Here's to you, Miz Mary Patricia! She didn't have a chance, did she? The only name they could pin on her would be Mary Pat. And when we said, "But mom," in our whiny pre-teen voices, "Mary is such a plain name and there's so many Marys," my mother countered with, "We'll call her Patricia or Patty or Pat." Yeah, right. That never happened. She was and is Mary. We shouldn't have thought it would be any different. My dear maternal grandmother's name was Mary. My mother was 40 when she brought my sister into the world -- my sister, the last of six siblings, with me as the oldest. I was 14 years old when she was born -- well on my way to teenage angst, and I didn't need a newborn baby in the house to take the spotlight, idaresay. But funny thing about that -- we all loved her (and love her still) so very much. She was (and is) a JOY! So, Happy Birthday, Mary! Happy Birthday #43. EEEEK! (my only saving grace is that Mom's 83 now)

In my search for St. Patrick's Day Graphics, I came across this:
DARBY O'GILL AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE...


















... a Disney movie that came out in 1959 -- hyped on "Disneyland" (the tv show) by none other than Walt himself. I remember vividly even though was eight years old. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING... taking me to the theatre to watch that movie??? It scared the living s**t out of me! That damned banshee! I couldn't pass a dark room, worried about my closet, and basically freaked out for weeks. And death? Geez, that banshee took me over to sheer terror about death, and I don't think I've ever come out of its grips. Here we were, minding our own business, singin' and dancin' with the little Leprechauns (and wondering, "how'd they do that?" about the small people actors in the same frame with the regular people actors), when BAM! The banshee! Sooooo... here she is.... (always a woman, huh? geez)







































Happy St. Patrick's Day all you Baby Boomers!
I know you're out there -- still freaked out about the banshee...not to mention... The Wagon of Death (that's another frightening graphic, headless coachmenand all... and I couldn't bring it here... shiver, shiver, shiver!)

Faith and begorrah!

Oops!

I lied. Well, I didn't lie. But I woke up to SNOW. Lots and lots of SNOW. Big, fluffy flakes of snow.
Darm!

I guess that whole melting thing will just have to wait.

Thank goodness I'm heading for California on March 26th. I need sunlight and warmth!

Of course, I should not complain. It was a balmy 34 degrees most of the day, even with all the snow.

We're Melting, Melting, Melting!
Oh, What a World!

Spring hasn't exactly sprung, but I do have hope. Heard birds. Saw chipmunks. And the snow has melted on the edges of the two acres. Slowly, slowly. Deep breath. Cross your fingers. Hold on!

I'm not an expert (duh) but I'd say Vermont is having a good maple sugar year. From what I've read, the syrup people need very cold nights and warming up days. The sap will run. They'll tap and boil. The valley will smell delicious -- seriously, like maple syrup. I'm not kidding. The first time I walked outside and breathed that burnt brown sugar smell with the hint of maple, I thought I was making it up. But I wasn't. A sugaring venture was going full steam ahead, right at the bottom of our hill. Since then, we've moved, but we are in the vicinity and I can still smell the liquid gold. BTW... YIKES... do you know what they're getting for maple syrup these days? I thought about tapping our sugar maples. Operative word: thought. Nah, I have plenty of other projects to finish.

Right now, I'm trying to stay on top of three serious goals: 1) lose weight; 2) finish the quilt for Geoff and Carrie; and 3) finish my novel/novella. All three goals connect to Geoff and Carrie getting married in June. What could be better than to look nice and feel energetic for pictures and general fun? What could be better than to present them with a handmade quilt? (although they do know about it because... it's been languishing at the bottom of my pile o'projects for about five years. (digging toe into ground and biting index finger in shame) (oh well). And finally, what could be better than being able to tell my darling son that his mother finally finished a book. Finished a book. Which would mean... I can do it! He's always saying so. He says he never wants to tell his children that I was a great writer, but never finished a book. When you put it that way... OY YOI YOI.

Daylight savings time started today and so many people are pissed off about it. I'm not. What the heck? Yes, it takes a few days or a week to get used to the idea, but then it's like summer is already here. I remember the feeling -- when daylight savings time started every year, we were excited to our toes! We could play outside longer and longer every evening. In fact, that scene in Field of Dreams, at the end, where they "have a catch." That's my backyard all summer long -- the "pop" of the baseball into the glove -- from my dad to my brother and back again. The smell of leather and neet's foot oil. Ah... well, that movie never fails to make me cry. Too many memories these days? Yes, probably.

Back to the studio. I need to clear a space for the quilt, rev up the tread mill, and brainstorm more of my book. I can do all that right here and at the same time -- I love my life! Here's what I'm expecting come Vermont spring:

(my very own homegrown daffodil)