I love where I live. I love the dry heat and mountains. I love the pine forests and the lakes. I love 300 days of sunshine. But once a winter we get a storm that literally lasts days, and dumps more than a foot of snow on us.

We have tunnels in our backyard for the dog. The neighbor wears snowshoes to walk around the block. We’re debating if we need to shovel the roof.

And I’m dying. My back is screaming at me, my hips are out of alignment, and I can’t bend to save my life. My boss delayed opening the museum, thank all the gods. I stayed home and kept the fire.

Anyway, the snow has finally stopped and the sun is out. Granted now it’s subzero temps and too cold to snow, but… the sun is out.

I did get some writing done this break. Not a ton, but some words on paper and many, many wrinkles ironed out is a good start to the year. My writing space is my own again. My ragrug took it over for awhile, but now I also have a soft, warm rug for under my writing table.

I am still debating doing book reviews again. Especially with Chelsea winding down, I need a new project. I read nearly 100 books last year. I have plenty of material. I’ll have to see if I actually feel like writing them, let alone recording them.