My very long-time friend Lee from God's country, USA, where I used to live and she still does, emailed today to ask me how I was doing. They, on the rainy side of Washington state have had more snow in the past couple of years than I can remember happening since my son was about 7. They don't like it much.

My photos of son standing in the hole we'd dug in the snow, next to a yardstick, were stolen by the heathen, hypocrite, thieving, scripture-spouting bastards who stole my beloved truck, and all of our furniture, toilets and underwear, from our former home in middle Tennessee. However, that photo did exist to prove we'd gotten 36 inches of snow in 24 hours in Longview, WA. We didn't like it much then either. Well, the kids liked not having school. We didn't like that much either.

Most of the time Lee forwards on the most incredible photography that her Canadian cousin can get his hands on. He takes a lot of the photos himself, but I'm sure others are copyrighted by persons unknown to me, so I don't post them anywhere. They do, however, make me yearn to get out my oil paints.

Now that my fingers could hold an artist brush again. Maybe. I'll have to try that before making a bolder statement. And take into consideration that I can't even get comfortable to read while in this abominable neck brace, while wearing trifocals.

I have no choice but to ignore the laundry, housework, dishes, etc., that need to be done. I will pay the bills today. Hubby will take care of the rest after he's put in a full day of work. He'll get it done with a smile left for me. He won't like it much, though.