Sir Wally and Phill and Martin Marietta

Woohoo!! Sir Walter Wally the official groundhog for NC saw his shadow and we will have more winter. In reality we need the winter weather and hope to God the ticks and weeds die off. Can a wood chuck really tell the weather? This is an American thing and we stick to it with unhindered adoration. Puxatonic Phill is the most pampered wood chuck in all of creation and probably has no real idea what cold weather is in the first place. Wally is cossetted and cared for all year long and I feel sure that when he is officially brought out of his temperature controlled house and stuck onto a cold stage with a whole bunch of strangers with cameras and noisy traffic he has his once a year flash back and waddles back to safety as fast as he can. And that means going back to his cary-cage and being put back in his warm enclosure with lots of toys and food and water and cute little interns to pet him. Now I actually take a lot of stock in what Wally does because the one year he decided to preen and pose in front of all his admirers and perhaps make a break for it and escape into the unknown wilds of downtown Raleigh, we had a warm and sunny spring that came shortly after Wally strutted his stuff.

My rock trip for this weekend was canceled because the mine manager said there was still snow at the bottom and he was unsure abut this weekend. I absolutely love Martin Marietta because they are some of the few active quarries around that will let rock hound clubs come in on the weekends. I have yet to meet a grumpy, rude or mean member of Martin Marietta. Only die hard rock fanatics go to open pit quarries because they tend to be just that: big grey pits. I am hopeless because I can’t wait to be surrounded on all sides by the great grey stone walls with water trickling down into pools and seeing the blue sky above me. I am well acquainted with these mines here in the south and thanks to Martin Marietta I hope to continue the love affair. Just as my husband has a love for WWII and ruins cheesy movies by yelling “That’s not a German tank! That’s a Russian that came out near the end of the war” I can ruin them by yelling “That’s not a dessert valley! That’s an old pit mine… Oooo, look at the calcite.”

Even though I love the winter I do hope it warms up. If it warms up the coyotes will stop breaking into the back yard and setting my dog off at two in the morning. I live in the rural suburbs but the burbs none the less. We saw the dog like foot prints in the snow on the deck and I can guarantee you our fuzzy princess had not been let out yet. The other times she becomes our early warning system is when the dear are in the front yard. This tends to be the four in the morning barking. I saw the prints in the dirt myself so I know I am not hallucinating at four in the morning. Plus my beloved husband dutifully gets up every time and checks the yard while I fall back asleep in safety and warmth. My job is to warm his feet when he gets back into bed and I do so well I might add.

My job hunt continues frustratingly and the fullness of our bank account can be seen by whats on the stove for dinner: it’s beans tonight. My husband cooks more meals than I do and he does a lot more than just opening a can. Beans for dinner is probably why he cooks more than I do plus he would starve to death when I have migraines if he didn’t cook. I guarantee you nothing wins a woman over faster than when she is laying in bed with a pillow over her head and a bucket on the trash can and you come home and rub her neck and forehead out with massage oil and whisper sweet nothings like “I’ve started a load of laundry, honey.”

Well, here’s hoping someone wants mixed media collage packs and cabochons on Etsy and buys from me so we can get groceries and I’m not wasting my time taking umpteen gillion pictures on the camera of fabric pieces and marble slabs.

Be well and listen for the coyotes to howl.

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