This has been a long winter.
Especially for those of us in the frozen north. Paul and I have been counting down the days
until we can head south for a few weeks of sun and relaxation. This past week I’ve
had plenty of time to contemplate the coming vacation while I was laid up with
the flu.
Last week I went from perfectly fine to sick as a dog one
night while I slept. General malaise
followed by ever-increasing misery culminated in a low point of hugging the
porcelain throne whilst hurling forth some nasty. To add to my misery, the power was out and
there’s no window in my bathroom. Fortunately
I remembered which corner the toilet was in so I managed to crawl to it in the
dark.
My first concern was whether or not one week was sufficient
for recovery because Florida was waiting and I needed to be on my way, nausea
notwithstanding. I hobbled off to the
doctor and explained to him that I do not have it in my schedule to be ill so “give
me something.” Being the compassionate
sort, he obliged and I left the pharmacy with all manner of pills and potions. I can now tell you which ones will increase
the aforementioned queasiness and which ones might actually aid in healing.
This morning the big day was finally here. With yet another winter storm forecast for
this coming weekend, we felt like we were escaping in the nick of time. Our plan is to spend a few days in West Virginia
visiting my brother, two sisters, and their clans, after which we will mosey on
south until we reach a place where the temperature is above freezing. We are both beginning to wonder if such a
place exists. We told and listened to
every global warming joke there is and they long ago ceased to be
humorous. Now they are usually
accompanied with lots of eye-rolling and sarcasm.
I don’t think I’ve ever been to West Virginia in the
wintertime. With all the leaves gone
from the trees, we were impressed with all the trails visible up the sides of
the mountains. Who, we wondered, would
be crazy enough to actually drive on such roads? Oh, yeah, probably my relatives. One of my
sisters, along with her husband, lives at the top, yes, the top, of one of
those mountains. Their view is
spectacular and they live completely off the grid. In a nice house with electric, flush toilets,
and everything. Every time we go there
Paul ruminates for weeks about how he can get us off the grid. Either we annoy the neighbors in our
subdivision with some really picturesque solar panels or we join the Amish. Neither seems acceptable to me right
now. Maybe some day.
My brother Bill lives close to the top of a mountain
too. With a horse, a dog, some goats, a donkey, and a flock of doves, he and his wife Hazel are clearly animal lovers. Their dog, Katie, made us feel like long-lost friends. Hazel rescued Katie from the middle of the road when she was just a wee pup. Bill said in their discussions on what sort of dog they wanted to own he preferred a blue heeler and Hazel wanted a beagle. I kid you not, Katie had a beagle head and a blue heeler body.
After supper, stuffed with delicious steaks from beef that
was frolicking outside last month, we
could see deer scattered in the front yard, in the back yard, and probably in
the side yard, if we would have looked. With bellies full, it was a fun evening
of catching up and solving the world’s problems.
I’m feeling better already just knowing the twelve inches of
white stuff predicted for Ohio is not going to fall until we are well away.
