Up to Date and Totally Relevant

In these perilous days, when journalists and writers face charges of “Fake News,” seemingly every time they write something unpopular, I thought it best to go on record with my Beliefs, Mission Statement and Code of Conduct.

Which means I must write one, a Mission Statement that is. My “Beliefs” I’ll happily yammer on at you at length, week after week. A friend once told me I was the funniest person I know, and I had to agree with him. I never fail to laugh at my own jokes. Even though most of the jokes I know exist only in the form of punch lines. They’re the most memorable part to me. I may no longer remember the joke*, but by golly “Gramma made it for me!” or “...And set your clock back!” never fail to make me laugh. (*if you happen to remember these jokes please tell it to me. I’ll supply the punchline. And I promise to laugh.)

My Beliefs, in a nut shell: 1) I’m convinced I’m funny. 2) Elk are evil, yet delicious. 3) Whatever topic I’m currently yammering on about. 4) Don’t read too much into the phrase “nut shell.”

 My Code of Conduct is that I will never to push a belief on you that I, myself, haven’t held. For at least twenty minutes. Promise.

“For only twenty minutes?”  I imagine you asking, “That seems—rash.”

No, not rash—relevant. Fresh, if you will. Fresh from my brain to the page in front of you, with very little time for those pesky rewrites. Usually written in those creatively charged hours RIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE, OH DEAR HEAVENS WHY DIDN’T I DO THIS YESTERDAY? I THOUGHT I MADE SOME SORT OF NEW YEARS RESOLUTUION TO--- oh. Note to self: actually make New Year’s Resolutions final.

"Not throwing away my SHOT"

Sometimes life comes at you fast. I didn’t write this week’s column ahead of time because I was too busy practicing showtunes –specifically those to Hamilton. If you’d like me to perform them for you just ask. Better yet, if given the chance, sell your kidney and go see it. It’s playing in Seattle thru the middle of next month and I only need one kidney anyway...totally worth it.

Next week: more fresh relevance. Possibly a Mission Statement. Maybe Resolutions.  Whatever. Guaranteed** funny or double your money back.

**This offer only available to The Shopper readers

Flowers for Valentine's Day

Spring is here. Early, but here. I have declared it so. And I have the facts to back up that assertion, too.

”Oh,” I imagine you saying, “so you saw a robin?” 

No, no robin, not that I’ve seen, anyway.

“Oh, you must have mown your grass for the first time?”

No, no grass mowing.

“Planted flowers? Weeded gardens? Spread chicken poo on your flower beds?”

No, no and NO, but I really should have. Please stop interrupting, stop making me feel lazy and just let me tell the story, ok?!

Geez. Anyway. The fact of spring I observed—would it kill you to provide a drum roll please-- My First Dandelion!

Ok, so technically it wasn’t my dandelion, and it wasn’t even in my zip code---full disclosure, it was in Morton. And I picked it anyway, I was just that excited to see its happy, little, yellow face.
 I saw it.
 I smiled. 
 I picked it.

If there are now reward notices in the Morton Post Office for information leading to the capture of the Dandelion Bandit I will totally deny we ever had this conversation. And the alleged dandelion is no longer in my alleged possession.

Enjoy this photo of The First Sign of Spring

MORE

I might have mentioned that this year I am embracing the concept of One Little Word, and that my word for 2018 was “More.” I want more; to appreciate more, to give more. To write more love letters, to savor more sunsets, to walk more, dance more, create more---I want MORE. More is good. Or, as Shane used to say, “More better.”

The one thing I didn’t mention is that More will include more Sumes.

That’s right—MORE Sumes. The big, beautiful, impossible to keep secret that I’ve (mostly) been keeping is that around August there will be another Sume in the world—a teeny, tiny Sume. A baby boy Sume, born to my Oldest and his Beloved.

I’ve already bought books for The Baby. And a stuffed chicken (as one does), and a rocking chair. And made a new Pinterest folder full of crafts for kids and food you make to look like animals and how to make your own Play Dough and plant a sunflower fort and---well. Anyway.

Not that I’m carried away. I’m just prepping. I’m officially a Prepper, a Grand Prepper, you might say. It’s my job to be prepared and prepared I shall be.

I need swing sets and a jar to keep frogs in. Tonka trucks, baby socks, what else? Probably candy. Grandparents are big on candy, right? I’ll get some candy.

MORE. 

What a lovely word.

Weather in the Month of Ground Hugs*

January has flown by. February—or FebBURRRuary, as I like to call it-- is upon us. Ground Hog’s Day officially kicks off my hopes for an early spring. If the little varmint sees his shadow, we’re told to expect six more weeks of winter. If it’s a nasty day of weather, we’re told—counter-intuitively-- to see this as a good sign. After all, with weather this nasty, spring must be right around the corner, right?

I know this is how the folksy superstition is intended to work: the worse it seems, the better it’s going to get. However, I live in the wet half of a very soggy, cloudy-skied, Evergreen state. (Spoiler alert: it’s quite possible the “green” in Evergreen is moss green. From actual moss.) It’s nearly impossible for me to root against the sun making any appearance, even if it shows up on February 2^nd and sentences me to another six weeks of misery, it’s still SUN. Be glad you got to see it, no matter the circumstances. In MY folksy superstition, one should throw one’s self on the ground in a joyous effort to hug their shadow. I call it Ground Hug’s Day.

One of my strong beliefs about February weather is that every year, the month of Hearts and Ground Hogs also contains back to back days—let’s call it a week—of unseasonably warm weather. Temperatures can sky-rocket into, not only the 50’s, but the HIGH 50’s. Virtually shirt sleeve weather! Dig out the sunscreen and put on your sunglasses---and probably better keep the snow shovel close at hand because February weather often requires a lot of shoveling.

My snowdrops are poking their brave little heads above ground, can the first crocus of spring be far behind? Crocuses will soon be followed by daffodils, and tulips ---and then the entire earth seems to explode into bloom.

So, on February 2^nd, no matter what the weather brings-- be it Ground Hog’s weather, or Ground Hug weather—I will declare spring to be just around the corner. And my snow shovel? No worries, I know just where I left it.