footprints in the yellow snow

It snowed last night and I ran around drawing eyeballs on all the car windshields. This is the table on the porch outside the kitchen. I spend a good deal of time in the kitchen, it is my number one extra-curricular...

Flirtatious swirls of sumptuous citrus cinnamon pervade the room as my sweet potatoes lie roasting in the oven. Lookout, Shepahrd's Pie, Salsacita is in town! Review pending... Yesterday my tasty buds celebrated a creamy white Wynesdale, a slightly nutty cheese hinting bittersweet that was infused with dried cranberries, and followed by a fine ginger biscuit. Today's lunch was a fiery tomato-based risotto with eggplant, zucchini and chorizo sausage, then I nestled into a steaming mug of unsweetened chocolate, cinnamon, cayenne and cream. Earlier in the week was a very successful gluten-free mac'n'cheese with mustard seed and cracked peppercorns.

She cooks - she scores! Lot of victories this week, we're aiming to keep up the momentum into the semi-finals. I might have caught a case of the Olympic spirit.

Tara is the incontinent dog with whom I live. Everyday she takes a small white pill wrapped in cheap deli ham so that she will pee outside. The first time alone with Tara I had no idea why she kept dancing around my ankles while I sat and read the paper. She has food, she has water, she just received a bit of a scratch... Oh right! Out you go, Tara, and into the snow. She is stout and miniature, a bit of Jack Russel, mainly mutt. Getting on in years, slightly blind, nearly deaf, with a bald spot on her left haunch - she bathes in love and affection of her caretakress.

This is a statue in the backyard, dusted with morning snow.

Don't believe too much of what you see. Snow is a most temporary phenomenon. Gone altogether if you don't run out to greet it.

walkabout, newcastle, great brrrrrritain

i might look like an overburdened coat rack most of the time

but that doesn't stop me from scooting about town:

My arrival has been highly publicized throughout the UK

lengthy long lines of little brick houses (built in the 20s!)

too blown out here, but surfers are out almost everyday

(HOLY GRAPES!)

piercing sun and biting cold

toughlove from mama nature

"A wee bit INSANELY FREEZING outside" Or "Nestled in Newcastle"

Dear my posthumous biographer, sor-RRY! There’s been a bit of a time lapse, BUT you should have avoided this discipline in the first place! While I’m at it, might I suggest some titles? “So-La-Ti-Deconstructing the life of AbreRonde” or “unLoughing Loughridge” No? Ok, how about, “Iddly-Squeak-Poop”? I know, it’s catchy! Better suited to the target demographic. And I am NOT joking when I say that IF my biography gets marked as “Young Adult Novella” I will posthumously publish the scathing review I had prepared during my life, just in case this should ever be the case, case-closed. Yes, you can credit me with inventing the “pre-emptive, posthumous smack-down.

But in brief, to address the cliffhanger with which I left you:

I am no longer T-rex shaped, I have the use of my arm back, and am left with a sweet scar that raises my I-am-supa-legit-pirate rating up to the 82^nd percentile! (If I lose a tooth it jumps to 95!) I probably shouldn’t jest about things, because such a rating system might actually exist. It did take almost 2 weeks to heal, during which I had a big sailing competition. We managed. And finished 4^th!

"A wee bit INSANELY FREEZING outside"

Or

"Nestled in Newcastle"

Here we are in England. Newcastle Upon the Tyne to be precise. I’m working on my euphemistic phrasing, but I haven’t quite mastered the fluency of the natives. But lo it is true! Cold doesn’t do it justice, and it’s sort of raining, kind of all the time. It’s like Hawaii! except in no way at all other than the h2o part. Today I licked a piece of hail off my mitten. (¡gracias por tu regalo de navidad, mama!)

I’m being put up with an older woman named Madeline, who has a spare room, but not much else as most of what will be her wonderful home has yet to be constructed. Her father, Bob, is the man on the job. Bob runs his own builders business. His company name gets him gigs doing both renovations (“rennos” as we would say in ozzi talk) and toddler birthday parties, just like that popular kids show, “Clarence the Contractor”.

We picked up my friend’s toddler after work today and as soon as we get in the car she yells with glee, “I had a poo!”

We both jump in reaction, “Now??!” Only to find out she’s announcing her general accomplishments of the day.

“I had a poo in the toilet! AND a wee! I get a chocolate.”

“That’s right Evey, and what happens if we don’t go in the toilet?” quizzed her father.

“That’s naughty. Straight to bed, or maybe a time out.” Oh, she knows the rules, alright. I’m already scheduled for babysitting.

That’s pretty much the extent of my social circle thus far. I have of course confirmed that there is a Salsa scene downtown, and a local rock climbing gym. Rumor has it I will have a cell phone and a physical address soon. Lookout!