It's Winter.

It's the coldest day so far.  I'm in the hospital, and my dear Yard Man declares, "I'm taking you south!"  

So, after a week or so filled with parties (birthday parties, Super Bowl party, personal pity party), we loaded up the car and set out in that very direction.

*Not only the birthday of my Tiny Actor, but the birthdays of Only Son and eldest sis of The Yard Man come within five days of each other and right in a clump with Super Bowl Sunday, as well.  It makes for a gob of gleeful gathering.**

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Even more gleeful, of course, was exiting the zero-degree north and heading south (Yard Man driving), the car containing at least one pair of sandals and several short-sleeve T-shirts.

 **pity party severely lacking in glee, 

but partially alleviated

by the south-facing auto.

**********

(to be continued)

Nothing Better than a

Happy Birthday party to smooth out a twist that has caused one to grimace.

My Tiny Actor turned six years old!











It was  the day after my arrival home from the hospital.  I woke up to the jarring fact that my car, sitting so dutifully there in the driveway, was a tool I could no longer utilize.  It was a tough twist.  But, I continually told myself: My restriction is minor and temporary.  Minor!* Temporary!*

The Yard Man carried me off to the store for a birthday present, and then to the happy birthday party of my dear Tiny Actor**

**The Tiny Actor, who, I am quick to point out, Dear Reader, is not able to drive, either (yet never once railed about it at his birthday party.)

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*Relatively speaking, of course.
*Relatively speaking, of course.