According to long range forecasts, February will be a little warmer. That may be obvious, but I forget that. I forget that the worst of winter does not last long. By the time March is here, our average temperature will be well above freezing. That's not far away. So, if spring is fifty days away, some of those days will be pleasant. I'm pointing out the obvious to myself because it's not always obvious to me.
At this juncture, I am trying to get over a chest cold that has made me cranky, achy, and rather sedentary--at least when I can get away with it. This happens so seldom, and I am so spoiled, that it feels unjust. Actually, it seems that half the people I know have caught something. I love NyQuil, but the way. The daytime stuff, without the alcohol, not so much. But NyQuil, or whatever off-brand I can find, is always dreamy; puts me to sleep and lets me pretend that I am not sick.
Anyway, here it is, only Tuesday, and I wishing the week away. I'm ready for this month to be over, I'm ready to get The Superbowl over with, I'm ready to stop hearing jokes about balls, and I'm very ready for it to be February. Notice that February never outstays its welcome. That's nice.
To update my exciting life's happenings from last month, I finished The Luminaries, by Eleanor Catton, and found it enthralling. So much to discuss! Not many novels make the reader work quite that hard. I've got Mike reading it.
After that, I read our book group's selection, The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace, by Jeff Hobbs. The title of this riveting biography warns readers that Robert Peace will not meet the happy, successful ending that anyone with his talents, drive, and stamina should have. It's frustrating, puzzling, and very sad. I hope that Robert DeShaun Peace's story serves as a cautionary tale for those who start life with the deck stacked against them. Peace should have gotten out of Newark, but obviously felt anchored there out of some sense of obligation to his family and friends. People do need anchors, but unfortunately, he got involved with the worst side of Newark. A person's friends say a lot about a person, and he had some wonderful people on his side. And his mother, Jackie, is a superhero. And still. This story is hard to take, and will stay with me for a long time.
And now for something completely different: The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry, by Gabrielle Zevin. This is a much happier book, and I'm currently enjoying it very much.
And now, I must go; there's one more thing about this month I'm ready to get over with, and that's our monthly last-Tuesday staff meeting. Hurry for it being the last Tuesday, though.
Okay, I must chop chop.