We survived another arctic blast. I do my very best to not complain about the weather. I live in Iowa. It’s winter. It’s supposed to be cold. As we march toward February, I always wish I had budgeted for a tropical vacation right about now. I look really good with an umbrella drink in hand. Sadly, it’s not in the cards this year.
I ducked out for lunch to snag a salad from Palmer’s, a local deli addiction. Winter makes me feel furtive. I hunker down at home, and when I emerge from my nest, I do so buried in layers of clothing. I hunch my shoulders. I become compact in an effort to embrace my own body heat. Winter makes me feel smaller. Like a pop-up camper all folded up and awaiting summer expansion and adventures.
In my car on the way back from the salad heist, I caught this little ditty on the radio. Although Presence is my favorite Zeppelin album (I am in the minority with that pick, I suspect), this song is my favorite of all their songs. It makes me happy.
Whatever yields happy is not wrong on a cold winter day. I threw in some homemade beef and noodles (yes, I made the noodles, too) with whiskey glazed carrots for dinner. Carrots are always happier when pared with whiskey, I find. So am I, coincidentally.
Indulge in a little Rock 101 with me, won’t you?
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