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Funny how on this Spring Break Monday morning I want the tile floor to be warm. It’s cold, cold as tile can be on a still cool morning. If I turn on the heat, then my mid-morning the whole house will be stuffy.

Spring. A transitional season. A season of wind, sudden snowfall, 80-degree days that make you fret summer will be a scorcher. Or today. A “normal” spring day. A breeze will start up by noon. The temperature will hit 68. Clouds will gather by late afternoon. A chance for rainstorms tomorrow.

I’m making it up. We had rain all Friday night and most of Saturday. Then sun yesterday. I’d like to say spring is my favorite season. A hopeful season. Warmth after a long, cold winter. The shoots on the elm trees are so brilliant green they make your eyes hurt. Especially elms, the weed of trees. Nasty little yellow seeds that by planting time will blow across fields and roads, move like swarms close to the ground.

Spring, and if it weren’t for the ushering in of summer I could pass on it. If I lived further north spring might be a continuation of winter. Nothing to write home about.

Good news is my allergies are not spring allergies. People around here are sneezing and crying about their allergies. Radio DJs home sick on a workday morning. I wouldn’t mind staying home, not sick, though. I wouldn’t mind being a kid again, having the week off for Spring Break. Wouldn’t mind spring one bit at all.

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Easy is a strange, hard word. Walking from living room to dining room to kitchen to bedroom. Slippered frostbite danger from Transport Canada websitefeet, 16 degrees, 8 degree wind chill. A salmon flavored cat food pebble sticks in a leather groove on the bottom of my foot. Shriveled leaves fall from a chrysanthemum by a cold southern exposure. Catnip is strewn about the bed cover; Mr. Stripeypants circles the spot, then dives in for the scent.

The cat is high. The sheets are clean, the bed is made. Easy living.

I pop the top on a Cherry Zero and the tab doesn’t flick. Instead the pressure builds, not an easy landing. I place the aluminum can in the coffee stained sink and grab another. Liz tells me a classmate, Kindra, was eager to get home from her Psychology and Religion class the other night because she was having an Easy-Lift La-Z-Boy rocker recliner delivered.

La-Z-Boy Carlyle Recliner - La-Z-Boy first introduced the recliner in 1928I remember the days. In the early eighties I had a second-hand, floral covered La-Z-Boy rocker in Montana. My butt was glued to the chair. I’d write chicken scratch in my journal or stare out the window or sit by the electric heater, rock, rock, rocking my life away.

These days La-Z-Boys are built right into the structure of corduroy, Scotchgarded, wrap around couches in front of 60 inch Sony flat screens. Simple life.

Simple does not mean easy. 

Monday, February 12th, 2007

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