As My Grandmother Used to Say ...

... well, suh! (aka will wonders never cease) when there was a wholly unanticipated turn of events that made life work out for the better.  And before le deluge d'hiver of the past few days, were Grandma Mamie alive she would have exclaimed twice -- once when the Pope of New Haven announced his resignation and the other when the Pope of the Rest of Youse announced his.

Well, I'm back.  No novel stories to tell about the blizzard.  We were relatively unscathed -- we have a driveway; we had food, heat, DVDs, fiction and copies of the New York Times dating back to 1967, electrical power and a block full of motorheads who like nothing better than using their snowblowers for hours on end.  So, what the hell.  If ever there was a time to sit back and enjoy it, that was the time.  And if you don't count the prospect of having to eat some long forgotten glass noodles crammed in the back of the cabinet (in case of culinary emergency) because there was no getting to a market as a tragedy, it was practically a no foul, no harm event .  Husband No. 1 and I both, ehem, work from home, so it wasn't like the enforced togetherness led to homicidal thoughts, and good weather and bad we always argue about who has to take out the garbage, recycling and compost so why let 3 feet of snow change that dynamic, n'est-ce pas? 
 
I leave you with this:  while it is beginnings that give our lives joy, it is endings which give our life meaning.

Saturday Poetry: The Circumcision (another excerpt)

She hit him with the lion's paw.

He punched her belly

then ran.

She left the cat running --

flopping, twisting

howling and hissing --

to chase my brother

down the hall.

Our head turned to follow the race.

There was nowhere to pass

only overtake.

At first he laughed.

He was 13 and fast.

She was his Mother!

His Mother!

For her, though

this was no game.

Desperate and cornered

he leaped through the plate glass door.

The glass and he screamed.

The crown imbedded in his skull

shone brilliantly

before he fell to the grass

his flesh and blood among the shafts.

He touched his brow in wonderment.

He turned to look at our Mother's face

her body framed in the pane's sunburst

the arm poised for murder,

and galloped from her rage.

She charged to sever him

and came to her senses

in the waning light.

She saw his teammates frozen

with mitts in hand.

The jagged glass.

(The money!  The money!)

My brother prostrate

His face bleeding

My father diminished

Our heart throbbing

The beast growling

Her chest heaving

The arm lowering.