On this cold January day I took a stroll …


… down memory lane.

It was a little look back, courtesy of Facebook.

I thought I’d share the experience with you for “Wayback Whensday”.

For some reason I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic the last few weeks.

Perhaps this nostalgia kick began when I sent a link to a group of high school chums. Though we’ve not physically gathered together in over four decades, we’ve often reconnected through Facebook for an impromptu chat about “back in the day” … mostly we dwell on the good stuff – gossiping about former teachers or classmates. It is harmless enough banter, and it feels like we just continued a conversation we might have been having in the high school cafeteria, except amongst the six of us, we are spread out all over the U.S.

Well, I sent “the girls” a local news video of the old Park Theatre, the only movie theatre in town, and a place where all of us hung out at one time or another in our youth. For a buck we could see a double feature, the upcoming attractions, munch some popcorn and probably still had enough $$ left over to stop while walking home and have a White Castle slider and a pop. Such a deal. The Park Theatre’s biggest claim to fame was that Bob Seger played there when he first hit the music scene. But, through the years, the Park Theatre fell on hard times, became an adult theatre in the early 70s, then part of it was razed last year to make lofts. The lofts opened on January 15th, thus I sent the local news video and us six soon had a lively chat session about the good ol’ days.

As you know, there are sites all over Facebook where one can reconnect and reminisce about your school days, good times (or not) and our high school and middle schools are among those sites.

My nostalgic kick continued when I was thinking about the Italian family and their young daughter who lived next door to us back in Oakville, Ontario. They spoke very little English. On a whim, the other day I searched for that sweet little girl with the saucy sausage curls – Gracie Ann. I discovered she uses her maiden name and now lives in Italy. I noted she had several Facebook groups she belonged to – the City of Oakville, and the schools she had attended … one was the same elementary school as me.

I attended E.A. Orr Public School from the time I started kindergarten until my father was transferred with Ford of Oakville to Ford of Woodhaven in the Summer of 1966. On the last day of school at E.A. Orr I bade my classmates a tearful farewell and knew I’d never see them again. I was crushed – not only to leave my classmates and playmates, but to go to a new and different country where we had no family and to start anew. By late September, school – that place of learning where I had excelled, and, along with many of my classmates, was double-promoted from Grade 2 to 4, seemed like such a distant memory as school was no longer a place I desired to be. I was bullied relentlessly in sixth grade for my Canadian accent and pronunciation of words – by my peers and even my teacher who ridiculed me.

Fast forward to 2015.

For kicks, on Monday night I started meandering through a Facebook “group site” about E.A. Orr, my elementary school. Most group sites must grant you permission to access and view comments and pictures – but it was not so with this site. Within minutes I was fully immersed in the chatter between 167 former E.A. Orr attendees and I began perusing photos of individuals and classes from as far back as the early 60s. I discovered the school became a senior citizen residence in 1987.

I then stumbled upon some comments by a woman by the name of Maggie Rust. While her name didn’t ring a bell, she had commented on her kindergarten teacher and what year she had started school – well, bingo … it was the same as me. But I could find no photos of Maggie or her classmates. I searched through the entire site, reading Maggie’s comments … and decided to reach out to her on her own Facebook page. I sent her a picture of me in September 1961 on my first day of kindergarten with the message “Hey, this was me and I’m wondering if we knew one another?” … a few minutes later Maggie responded.

Well we got lost in time in a flurry of e-mails back-and-forth over the course of a few hours – catching up a bit, talking about school and the old neighborhood, though sadly my recollections were a little tarnished. I was disappointed in myself, since I could not recall alot of names of classmates, teachers, or even the streets that I probably encountered on an everyday basis for those five elementary school years, yet Maggie remembered every detail. She told me she has “friended” many of her former classmates so I attributed her great memory to this fact as well.

Today Maggie sent me the picture above. She simply said “our kindergarten picture – I’m positive you are beside me … I’m second row 3rd from the left; you are 2nd from the left?” Sure enough – there we were … some 54 years ago. Pretty little Margaret with her flowing hair and her big smile and I remembered her right away, just like it was yesterday. I hurriedly enlarged the picture and cut-and-pasted it into a Word document, and, as my eyes darted from left to right, I was able to recall over half of those kids – some, even their last names. There we were … seated with Mrs. Kellett, all wide-eyed and innocent, and for some of us the first time we’d ever been away from our parents – it was a whole new world.

Were we chatterboxes back then Maggie, like we were the other night? What did we little girls talk about way back then? Probably teddy bears and dollies, maybe our pets and penmanship. I remember along the front of the classroom was a line of letters “A” through “Z” and oh, how our teacher had us strive to make our letters hit both lines in our scribblers. We practiced cursive while we gripped our thick, number 2 pencils and tried to steer that pencil up and down and glide it along the paper to connect the letters. We needed to have perfect penmanship and receive that coveted “A” or “good” or “nice work” from Mrs. Kellett.

Thanks for taking me along for the ride on the wayback machine Maggie – it’s been a brief respite back to another era, when life was simple and sweet.

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Changes in latitudes – changes in attitudes.


I changed my walking direction today and it made all the difference in the world.

I also swapped hats.

After yesterday’s headgear debacle, I opted for a knitted number that I’ve owned for eons. It is an Italian nubby texture, open-weave, knit beret which I bought to match a beige-colored storm coat many years ago. I liked it as I could tuck my long hair underneath and keep it dry while commuting back and forth to work on the bus.

I decided this morning to put that hat back into commission.

I’ll admit it is a rather putrid color … gold and cornflower blue. The first time I wore it someone on the bus remarked that it looked like something a Smurfette would wear. Trying to hide my irritation with her comment (and because I had never heard of the word “Smurfette”), I raised my eyebrows slightly in a quizzical manner, then inquired politely what a Smurfette was. There was no Google back in those days. It was suggested I should watch the Saturday morning cartoon called “The Smurfs” … I took a peek, then I “got it”.

I was checking the furnace filter before I left since we are having another Polar Vortex episode later in the week, and the furnace will be cranked up to full capacity. I heard the wind whistling and howling outside while I was in the furnace room. Should I just stay inside … or venture out? I opted for the latter as it was the weekend and I had more time, so off I went at 9:00 a.m., camera in tow and pockets full of critter treats left over from yesterday’s fateful trip.

I glanced at Marge’s big deck thermometer and noted that the needle pointed to 25 degrees, but I sure felt that stiff wind and pulled my scarf up higher on my neck. One of Marge’s big fat backyard squirrels, with an insatiable appetite, had positioned himself in the nearby tree while chomping on some baked goods. He had one eye trained on the door wall as he patiently waited on a hand to emerge full of his primo treat – peanuts.

It was murky looking out and the sensor light was still on. I hesitated after stepping outside – there was just a trace of snow on the sidewalk, but that dusting covered up any icy patches. I figured I’d just walk in the street as it was safer than wondering if there was black ice underneath the snow. The sidewalks, trees and bushes looked like Mother Nature took her sifter and lightly dusted them with icing sugar – in fact, it looked rather pretty. As I dodged the potholes and craters in the street, the pavement looked like Frosted Flakes – bumpy and sugar-coated.

While I meandered through the neighborhoods, still walking in the street, a car came zipping down the middle of Pagel, just a mite too fast for my liking and so I gave it wide berth. I didn’t see anyone behind the wheel at first, until the car got right alongside me, then I noticed a very short, white-haired, little old lady driving that big Buick. She had a death-grip on the steering wheel and was hunched over it. I had to snicker … not to disparage her, but instead because she reminded me of myself. I despise driving in the Winter, having taken the bus for over three decades while my little buggy sat ensconced from the elements in the warm garage. But she looked my way and gave me a big wave (while inwardly I cringed, thinking to myself ‘keep those hands at 10:00 o’clock and 2:00 o’clock please’), and soon she was past me.

My feet were on autopilot to Council Point Park, and, by walking in the street it took me a little longer than usual, but I made it there in one piece. The parking lot wasn’t shoveled and neither was the perimeter path, but I was close to my intended destination – the Park’s gateway to the walking path, because I wanted to get a Winter picture to complete my four-season collage of that particular spot.

Before I could reach that destination, however, I heard chattering and a clicking noise up in the tree and saw a squirrel peering down from his nest. I wondered if he recognized me and I dug into my pocket and dragged out the bag of peanuts and wiggled the hard plastic bag for him to see and hear what I had for him. Well, that lazy bones seemed content to just look down at me from his hidey hole high up in the tree. He knew I’d make a “dropping” for him and maybe he wasn’t in the mood to get his feet cold and wet, or perhaps he was snugglin’ with the missus. No problem Mr. Squirrel. I accommodated him, spread some peanuts at the base of the tree, then moved on to get my intended shot.

I positioned myself where the two forks meet at the entrance to the perimeter path and took a few pictures. Great. But, then I zoomed in to take a third shot and the camera lens closed and shut itself off. Irritated, I turned it back on and the “Change batteries!!” message was in the screen. Nice timing.

I got enough shots anyway.

As to today, well …

the sky could’ve been brighter;

the temperature could’ve been warmer; and

the squirrel could’ve showed a sign of life … less disinterest next time please.

But, we are, after all, dealing with Nature, so life is about as good as it gets on a cold and dreary January day.

I trudged home and added another three miles to my tally.

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It’s a cold, cruel world out there …


… and I don’t just mean the temperature these days.

This morning I decided to brave the cold, deal with the icy patches and get out and just clear my head … perhaps air out my brain and get the kinks out of my legs while I was at it. I figured the usual jaunt to Council Point Park would not happen as we’ve had a few bouts of snow this week, so, rather than high-steppin’ around the piled-up snow on the perimeter path, I would just pound the pavement in the neighborhood and perhaps stroll over to Memorial Park as well.

I packed up some bread I took from the freezer. I don’t mind storing loaves of bread or bagels up there as they can be toasted and still taste good, but I had some pocket bread that got that funky taste and smell of freezer burn, and I knew the wild birds would be glad for it, so I shredded it up, grabbed some peanuts and off I went.

It turned out to be a trip filled with close encounters of the strange kind.

Even though I wanted to air my brain out, the wind chill was +15 degrees after all, so I donned my big Sherpa hat, even though it scares me sometimes when I look in the mirror at myself. It tends to slide down past my ears and the brim rests on my eyeglasses. Well, I’m walking for exercise and I’m not trying to be a fashionista, so I don that warm hat, despite resembling a sheep while wearing it.

I sauntered past the golden retriever at the corner house. While this particular breed of dog is supposed to be the friendliest and most mild-mannered of all canines, this particular one runs back and forth repeatedly barking at me the entire time, any day of the year, with or without the hat, I might add. I feel that the snarling and baring of the teeth is really a little over the top but I usually say “good morning” anyway when I go past him.

I continued on my way, mumbling “whatever” and shaking my head, causing my hat to slip down just a little further and so I hiked it up with a mittened hand. I bent my head down a little more as the wind whipped up suddenly and stung my face. It was just as well, since I needed to scope out the sidewalks which had some black ice and pools of water which had frozen in the uneven parts of the pavement. So, walking was a little dicey as I hopscotched around the icy patches and crunched down on salt pebbles that were strewn by anxious homeowners hoping to avoid a slip and fall on their property.

It was then that I heard the heavy breathing and looked up … I saw that “Fade” spotted me at the same time and shot me a look that could kill.

Fade is an old and ornery pit bull that lives in the next block. I often see her owner walking her as I wend my way down to Council Point Park. I try not to cross paths with that pair while they are out for their daily constitution – Larry is okay, but she has a rather surly disposition, and despite the fact that she is so fat that she waddles, she always gives me “the look”, like she’d pounce on me in a heartbeat if Larry wasn’t on the other end of the leash. Larry says “don’t mind her – she won’t hurt you” but I step back a foot or two while I chat with him each and every time. Please understand that I like dogs and I’m quick to stoop down and pat one or scratch behind a dog’s ears if speaking with its owner, but there is something eerie about her eyes. She just doesn’t like me … I know it.

I wished Larry “Happy New Year” and gave the same salutation to Fade, who was resplendent in her navy wool coat that could not even buckle beneath her belly as she is so heavy. But don’t let that girth fool you. I bet she could chase you down and up a tree – you would be the one in the tree shaking and clinging on for dear life. As I chatted with Larry, she stared me down and started to growl again, that long and low growl that a dog does when it doesn’t like you. I stepped back another foot or so, just as Larry said “you know Fade ain’t gonna hurt you” (despite her growling at me the entire time). He pointed to my hat and said “she is scared of your hat” so I said “I’m leaving anyway” and turned on my heel and left, muttering to myself that I was not going to be her breakfast snack.

I hightailed it to Memorial Park, angry that I fell prey to this dog’s orneriness and cut short my neighborhood jaunt … in fact, it made me ornery as well.

I strolled through the Park, happy to be freed of that critter with the penetrating eyes, pink spotted snout and perpetual pout. I pulled my camera out from my coat and slung it around my neck, and got my bag of goodies ready to dispense as needed.

First, I saw a few sparrows and walked to their tree, scattering the crumbs for them to come down and feast. They took one look at me and flew away – “your loss” I called out as they landed at another tree, then realizing how stupid that might have sounded if there were any humans within earshot, I looked around, then added “there are other hungry birds around here who will be more appreciative of my treats” … but there were none.

I strolled one complete lap in the snowy grass and then came upon a pair of squirrels – they were running up and down and around a huge tree chasing one another, rather frivolous behavior in the cold, but maybe they were trying to warm up or getting the kinks out as well. I tossed them some peanuts – they took a look at me and beat it across the expanse of Memorial Park.

Okay, I can take a hint.

I came home and removed that hat – was it the pompom, the wide brim and high Sherpa pile that somehow tarnished my usual good karma?

I left the house wearing a grin and toting treats … I returned refreshed from the walk and rebuffed by the critters along the way.

Next time I’m going to Council Point Park where I am appreciated for myself (and my treats – of course).

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Walking in the Winter Wonderland – NOT!


When did you say the first day of Spring was? Not quite two months – well, not soon enough in my opinion.

As I’m peering out the window all I see is snow … we have the “snow globe effect” going on and have since early morning.

Sunday it was balmy enough to break out the shorts and I could walk in shoes and felt as exuberant as that little penguin in “Happy Feet”. But by nightfall, we had freezing rain, then snow … and soon the world outside the confines of the cozy house was all ice encrusted.

The continual whirr of snow blowers and the scrape of shovels on the cement has been prevalent all day – almost annoyingly so. It reminds me a bit of the first day in Spring where everyone has to drag out their lawnmower at the exact same time.

I sometimes wonder if I should be permitted a license to whine about the weather since I don’t have to drive in this mess, or, wait on the bus while snow collects and piles up in the nooks and crannies of my coat and woolen paraphernalia donned for a cold, snowy trip to and from work.

These days I only have to get dressed and plop down at the kitchen table and I’m at work … a far cry from the days when the commute sometimes seemed as long as the workday.

This Wintry weather makes me lazy … I want to shirk any of my regular routines and head back to bed. This morning I even abandoned going out to run the car after I took one look outside and said “maybe not” then shut the door and came back and had another cup of coffee. I toyed with the idea of going down and riding the bike but said “maybe tomorrow” … maybe I need that “happy light” I bought for Buddy last Fall to shed some light into his corner of the kitchen.

My friend Marge’s sister-in-law is spending 10 days with her here in Michigan to break up the monotony of the same-old, same-old weather in Florida. Marge reports that Anna is enjoying the change of scenery, even that below-zero cold snap we had last week, plus she loves the snow.

We here in Michigan are glad we could accommodate Anna’s desire for a change of pace because we’ve run through at least three of the four seasons since her arrival last Tuesday!

But, if she has room in her suitcase, Buddy and I would be glad to squeeze in and return to Florida with her – just say the word and we’ll start packing.

“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.”
~Yoko Ono

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These boots are made for walkin’ …


It was Day #3 of trying the various pairs of boots I rooted out from the basement the other day for the purpose of walking in the snow.

The first pair – way too tight; the second pair (obviously missized) – wouldn’t go over either foot; and, the third pair, which I wore today – well, just perfect. Now, lest you think this is a story like Goldilocks and the Three Bears – it isn’t … but you might have detected a slight similarity.

I was bound and determined I was going to eke out a long walk today since the boss was away and the weather was above zero for a change.

I set out, carefully navigating along the sidewalk, steering clear of icy patches and snow where no one has shoveled yet this season. Here in Michigan, we are famous for our potholes and they have already sprouted up – in the streets and even on the sidewalks.

It made walking a little dicey, but hey … I got in four miles before the walk was over.

Walking in boots is no fun though, so I continue counting the days ‘til the snow is gone and I am free to pound the pavement without fear of wiping out.

These past few days, in the process of testing this trio of boots, I came to the conclusion, once again, that a “momism” I heard over the years probably indeed came to fruition. A “momism” is what I have identified in past posts as my mom’s frequent pearls of wisdom rendered whether solicited or not. In fact, I wrote a blog post about “momisms” awhile back after my sweatpants fell down when I was walking on the trail on day. The string tie broke, and, nope … I wasn’t carrying a safety pin with me either. Oops.

Like everyone else in the 70s, as a young women who was a slave to fashion trends, I owned a pair of Earth Shoes. They were hardly the type of footwear a fashionista would reach for first in her closet. They were probably the ugliest-looking shoes ever created. Both guys and gals wore them, not that you could see much of the shoe under our bell-bottom jeans. Earth Shoes were dark brown, they scuffed easily and became even more drab looking as they wore out. You actually wanted them to look that way. They had a negative heel and laced up like an oxford. But, like everyone else in the 70s, we wore them because we all wanted to look alike.

(Being a free spirit and doing your own thing comes much later in life.)

I think they were the footwear fad somewhere in between the Buffalo platform sandals with the four-inch wedge heel (which made me tower over six feet) and construction boots. It seemed like the uglier your footwear was, the happier you were. My mom would take one look at my feet and ask “why?” … I, of course, had an answer ready and replied “everyone else is wearing them and I got them with my own money” … my mom countered with the old adage “if everyone jumps off a bridge, do you have to follow?”

Now, I know you heard that last line before – I heard it many times growing up.

Not only did I wear those ugly Earth Shoes with my jeans, but I also wore them in white to match my waitress uniform at the diner where I worked through college. My mom often admonished me, proclaiming “your feet will spread and years from now, you’ll never wear pretty pumps or delicate shoes when you get older” … of course, you can’t tell young people anything, then … or nowadays.

Fast forward some 40 years … give or take a year.

Mom was right.

Of my trio of boots – the biggest and widest pair fit the best. I cringed when I saw they were size 9 and fit perfectly. Well … you gotta figure that walking some 3-5 miles a day most days, while wearing walking shoes with lots of room to wiggle your toes, would wreak havoc on your feet, eventually. It probably doesn’t help that I wear soft moccasins in the house all day and haven’t donned a pair of pumps in at least 5-6 years.

As I set out this morning, my steps were tiny and timid, that is ‘til I felt sure-footed. I felt like my gait resembled that of the Duke … with alot less swagger, of course.

[The photo credit today is attributed to my boss Robb who e-mailed me this picture of the Duke from his Blackberry upon his arrival Wednesday at John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California.]

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No handstands for me today …


Nor was there a long foray out into the frozen tundra, despite making a few really good warm clothing finds in a seldom-used cupboard downstairs.

I have been meaning to go searching for some of my cold-weather clothing that I used to wear when I caught the bus so I could repurpose them for walking. It seems I tucked everything away along with a few pair of short boots once I started working from home. Well, this morning I found a treasure trove of cold-weather gear I had even forgotten about and so I brought it upstairs to rifle through it.

I found my mukluks in the process. I have been missing my mukluks these past few cold weeks. In fact I wanted to look for them last year, but I kept figuring that brutal cold was going to go away … but it never did. They are so very warm and wooly in a Scandinavian print with Sherpa fleece inside. They go almost to my knees. I may look a little silly sitting typing at the kitchen table while wearing something that seems better suited for a much colder clime than Michigan, but they sure are toasty. Later in the day, I was carrying my full cup of coffee across the kitchen and nearly wiped out on the braided rug … ah, that is why I stopped wearing them – soft and shiny soles plus a clumsy wearer is not a good equation, so they will be once again relegated to the basement.

I found a hunter’s camouflage head covering which looked like Spiderman deer huntin’ gear … I think I schlepped it along with the essentials in my bus bag just in case I needed it for the ultimate snow storm, of which I’ve been in a few over the years while taking the bus. In a pinch, it might’ve worked, but now that I’ve abandoned the contacts and wear glasses all the time, it might be a scary look.

I found a couple of pair of earmuffs and a ton of those foil-wrapped hand warmers, long since expired.

I really think I was rummaging through my stuff as a stall tactic to avoid going outside, but finally I resigned myself that I indeed had to traipse out to run the car, so I spent the next ten minutes getting dressed and out the door.

Mother Nature has sure given us the cold shoulder again today.

As I opened the storm door in the 8:00 o’clock hour, I knew it was 5 degrees with a -5 degree wind chill. The needle on my neighbor Marge’s thermometer was in negative territory. I shivered just looking at it. Brrrrrrr.

We had a dusting of snow last night and the sprinkling of frozen crystals on the trees and bushes looked like icing sugar. As the sun slowly cast its first rays of the day, those six-sided snowflakes twinkled and glinted in the early morning light.

Likewise, the sun’s rays shot through some lethal-looking icicles making beautiful prisms that I hated to tackle with my broom. I whacked them once and a row of those beautiful icicles soon snapped off and their pointed edges shattered into dangerous-looking icy shards upon hitting the porch. I had to scoot over to the side quickly to avoid getting hit on the noggin.

My outside chores done, I hustled back into the house as quickly as I could … maybe tomorrow I’ll venture out of the igloo longer and go past the end of the driveway.

What good is the warmth of Summer, without the cold of Winter to give it sweetnesss?
~ John Steinbeck

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Triathlon Woman (Who me??)


Image and copyright by Rodney Campbell: https://www.flickr.com/photos/acrylicartist/9071873418/

Well “Triathlon Woman” is hardly a moniker I’d use to describe myself. But today – maybe, just maybe … it’ll work.

On the other hand, “walkin’ fool” might be a good description as well.

This morning the weather was actually balmy. Now, that’s pretty sad when you get excited about 15 degrees above zero, but I was happy to hear that forecast. I could definitely subtract a layer or two of clothing and shuck the heavy mitts before I ventured outside for a walk.

The agenda was to be a return visit to Memorial Park, toting along some bread tidbits for the birds as I promised yesterday (and being a woman of my word, I would not let them down), then perhaps a lap or two in the snowy park, and return home.

But after two laps, I was enjoying my walk in the cold, but tolerable temperature, and decided to make an impromptu visit to Council Point Park. Perhaps I should have thought about that decision a little more, since I was wearing boots, which were comfortable enough, but not like my walking shoes which feel like slippers.

But, when I arrived at the Park, I discovered a portion of the parking lot had been plowed, but not the walking path. Grrrrrrrrr. I persevered anyway, though there was at least 3-4 inches of snow on the path, which made walking a little more difficult … it was really more like marching.

I still had a half-bag of peanuts stuffed in my coat pocket from the last visit there, so I hoped the squirrels were okay if I doled out their portion of peanuts sparingly. But it turned out, I needn’t have worried, as they were not around; I didn’t even see them peering out of their nests high up in the trees.

There was only one person at the Park this morning – Todd, who runs there every weekend, and has done so for nearly 15 years. Some of the walkers refer to him as “Rocky” as he perpetually dons a wool hat that is pulled way down over his ears. Besides that hat, he wears multiple layers of clothing – shorts over pants, tee shirts over long-sleeved sweatshirts … though admittedly he doesn’t have Sly Stallone’s eyes, nor does he bellow “Adrian” all the time.

We saluted one another as we crossed paths and I called out “Happy New Year” and he reciprocated and added “be careful – it’s kind of choppy out here”, a fact I soon found out. There might have been one other walker earlier today, judging from the fresh prints in the snow on the path … a man, or a woman with very large feet, who was walking a dog with very small feet judging from the foot and paw prints.

As I walked along the edge of the Ecorse Creek I noticed it was frozen solid, and snow had drifted and piled up in some spots where the narrow body of water twists and turns along the perimeter of the Park. At the concrete precipice which juts out over a storm drain, which I often refer to as “Duck Landing”, I moseyed down the embankment to see if any of the mallard ducks were huddled together underneath for warmth, but there were none. I wonder where they have sought refuge this past brutally cold week?

Despite the build-up of snow, I persisted on that Park path for one whole trip, lamenting that the City, which had special trucks with brushes to clear the path, no longer does so. Unfortunately, our City is now in financial straits, so that nicety is gone … for the short term anyway.

I wish I’d brought along my camera since I still need one Winter snow scape shot at the beginning of the Park path and I will be able to create a collage of all four seasons at that location. Maybe next time … I only dashed down to the Park on a whim today.

Thrilled by my long walk, I shut the door and shed my coat posthaste as the furnace was blasting. I glanced at my pedometer and was surprised to see I had logged in a smidge over 5 miles.

The walking miles spurred me to hop onto the bike where I did two miles while pedaling furiously.

So … what was the third event in Triathlon Woman’s exercise regimen today you ask?

Well, it was vacuuming – not too exciting, but it yielded more steps. And … besides, I didn’t want to break the very last resolution I had made … to take better care of the house in 2015.

I’ve already blown the rest of my New Year’s resolutions.

When I was initially perusing the portfolio of photographer Rodney Campbell, I came across his photo of this Great Horned Owl. I just loved the quizzical look it was wearing. Perhaps it is a scowl? I’m not sure, but I kept that picture tucked in the back of my mind and decided to use it today to accompany this post – “Who me??”.

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