It is Friday, November 21.
Two weeks ago we raked a ton of leaves and did a really decent job on the yard. The problem? Only about half the leaves had fallen.
One week ago, on Friday November 14, all the leaves finished falling. It was 70 degrees and sunny. And we were fully booked. We were coordinating a major dinner at our church, our kids had All-County music auditions in Nedrow, and our dog had to go to the groomer, for starters. We did not get any yardwork done on Friday, November 14. As I frantically ran errands in preparation for the dinner, I watched the beautiful day fade into an early dusk, as days are apt to do this time of year, and I hoped in "tomorrow."
Well, Saturday came all right. It was a rainy day. It rained Saturday and Sunday. On Monday it snowed. Snow also fell on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and this morning.
Now my neighborhood looks like this...
And there are still leaves on the ground, nasty, wet, dirty, snow-covered leaves. You can see some of them poking up from under the snow as Schubert takes a mad frolic in the backyard...
Yup. Winter is here. On top of my poor rhododendron...
My weeping cherry looks weepier than ever...
Whether you like it or not, winter comes, with all the cold, the mess, and the short, dark days. It is part of the rhythm of life. I'm sure it serves a purpose.
I hope there won't be winter in Heaven
But, as I said, it is expected. You deal with it. You might complain, but you deal with it, because you knew that it was coming and, shucks, I forgot to move out of New York AGAIN.
What is not expected is the letter I got yesterday. I, I, received an invitation from the Biltmore Who's Who. The letter says, and I am not making this up, "You were currently chosen as a potential candidate to represent the professional and business community of Liverpool, New York..." It goes on to say, "The Publishing Committee selected you as a potential candidate, based on your current standing as well as criteria from executive and professional rosters."
Do you realize that I have not worked in nineteen years?!? And when I did work, I worked for only approximately nine months, as an advertising copywriter. I had Shannon, and I quit. Except for one very short stint of doing technical writitng for my husband's company (approximately three days' worth, and I hated it, so I got one of my friends to take the job... she still works there), I have never worked since.
It reminds me of the time when I was in college, and I was standing waiting for a bus, wearing Shawn's letter jacket, which had his name on it. Some dumb guy came up and tried to strike up a conversation with me by saying in his very nicest voice, "Hi Shawn! How have you been?" What.An.Idiot. Could he not see that I was a relatively small female, wearing a huge (read: MAN'S) letter jacket, and my name was not probably the name on the jacket?
Except, this time, I wasn't even wearing a jacket. Where did these people get my name? And why? I think I might be a bit angry, if it wasn't so funny.
They say, "Once finalized, your listing will share prominent space in the Biltmore Registry with thousands of fellow achievers across the nation, each representing individual accomplishment within their [sic] own geographical area."
At least they could try to get their pronoun agreement right.
Should I fill out the form? Should I tell them that I am a stay-at-home-mom with no job, no income, and I don't even homeschool? Gracious, I don't even rake my leaves.