I’m in the mood to write a letter, even though I’m tired and my work isn’t done. Rick is tromping in and out carrying cases of things to be put away, and I’ve been helping him–doing the putting away, mainly–but now I’ve gone AWOL, at least temporarily. It feels so good to sit down though that the temporary defection threatens to become permanent.
I’m sitting in the wooden booth in the back near the wood stove. Snowmobiles are buzzing by. Rick’s big Iceman boots go scuff, scuff as he shuffles in with the two-handed cart loaded up with five gallon tubs of ice cream. (I suspect that the lunch special tomorrow will involve a milkshake.) The dish room sink is dripping, fast, like a quick-ticking clock, dripdripdripdripdripdrip. I really should get up and tighten the spigots down, but I don’t seem to be doing it. Zoom goes another snowmobile down the hill outside the diner. Scuff go Rick’s boots. Hmmm says the pop cooler faintly. I feel like I’m in a children’s story book and am getting sleepier and sleepier.
Sallie and I walked out to the water after work, just before dusk. The lake was sloshing icily; iceburgs have built up finally. Two seagulls glided high overhead. There’s a snow fence on the beach near the boardwalk. I studied it curiously, like a cat confronted with some new item in its house. There’s never been a snow fence before. What does it mean, what is it doing? (I expect it’s helping keep the boardwalk at least semi-open.) The slatted fence stretched out across the hummocked, snowy sand looks like something I’ve seen somewhere.
I know what–a painted plate my sister has hanging on her wall. I may’ve given it to her, that part I can’t remember.
There is no news. It’s 16F according to the weather service, and only a slight chance of snow . I mopped the floors twice today. Made sourdough bread and Italian also. The customers were in happy moods, and I was too. Life is so changeable. I hope you are well.