was playing weboggle the other night, with noah at the typewriter and probably josie out there, justin didn't come by until later, and bruce wasn't there, or we would have done better. in any case we typed the word boyos which just happens to be a word. not only is it a word, but we were the only ones who got it, which is always kind of a victory in itself. if you can't win, you can at least get certain words, that no one else knows. in this case it's a family word, everyone within miles of these leveretts knows about ours.

a story is being published in yemen- a ways away, but there you go. i'm known in far off lands. and, right here in carbondale, a pedestrian was hit on a street that often sees this problem, a street i'm on every day, several times. then, a car smashed the ambulance that this poor pedestrian was riding in. you can't win. the streets are full of salt- everything, every inch, covered with a sickly white anti-ice bitter life-killer. makes me wonder if anyone, deer in particular, like this stuff, besides the drivers, but i have to say, as a driver, it's a godsend. places that don't have it are treacherous. in pittsburg kansas they used to use pecan shells, which were a lot softer, more organic, made a crunchy sound in the snow, a soft pleasant crackly sound that meant a car was driving in spite of the snow. there, they would just about give up driving altogether if there was more than an inch- here, it's out with the salt, and get the suv's out to spread it around.

an unusually cold and long cold snap, here it is valentine's day, and it's still bitter, cold, gray, with more snow coming, apparently. around here there's always some question about whether the garbage men will take lincoln's birthday off (illinois-patriotic) or president's day (usa-patriotic)- or both (unlikely) or neither (possible)- one has to wait until the last minute, keep one's eye on the neighbors, and assume that at least one doesn't have a clue, but four or five probably aren't all wrong. city stray dogs, of course, consider general confusion to be the greatest holiday, maybe there are some old pork bones or dirty diapers in there, which will soon be scattered down the road, or covered by the next snow-dusting/salt bath.

so it goes- it's a wonder that the flowers choose to come back, that the buds show up, that i got a big orange publish button, that life goes on. may the miracles never cease.