Winter is a cruel, cold mistress

 

Aunt Doris Winter* was a cold, cold woman.

Well, it's cold here. It could have been colder, but we lucked out. 

It could be colder if Aunt Doris Winter was around.  Doris was not a blood aunt, she was a longtime friend of my grandmother's, a cold woman, lacking any warmth for anyone under 40. "Doris has been through a lot," Gramma would say. "So don't bother her."

Aunt Doris would visit Gramma if she didn't think I was around. She had no phone, so she would just show up. She would bring a Miller High Life -  just one for herself because Gramma didn't drink - and pour into a jelly jar glass, which had Flintsones graphics on it in pastel colors.   When she left, Gramma would reach up into the "sugar jar" and fish out a five-spot which she gave to the woman.  Evidently, Aunt Doris seemed to hit rough patches in life like a newly-minted driver hits icy patches on the road.  

"Everyone needs a friend," is all Gramma would say after Doris' car left the space in front of the house.

Grandpa didn't care for her, and was usually sound asleep by the time Doris would come by after lunch. That dislike reached far into the past, a past not discussed, and when asked, wasn't answered.  

At Christmas, she would leave a bank deposit envelope from the Fahey Banking Company for me, with a dollar in it, signed "Doris".  No "Merry Christmas", no "Season's Greetings".  Just "Doris." But I steered clear of the woman as the adults advised. 

I asked Mom, years later about what happened to Doris, but Mom said "She was always like that."

"Did you ever ask Gramma?"

"Cookie," my mother would say, "My mother would never discuss Doris' plight. Sometimes, life hands you mysteries that should remain just that."

_________

Back in the winter of 1994 it got down in the -20s in Columbus, so hovering around zero this past week was simply an annoyance.   The boiler on the house is working overtime to keep the first floor at 67, while the steam heat on the second floor has my home office up to Tuscon-in-Summer.  The boiler man was here this morning adjusting the fuel/air mixture, and he said "Above 10° they do find, but when its below 10°, they start to struggle."

The bad news is we really do need a new boiler.  The good news is we have some time. 

This has been a bitterly cold week in New England, the Upper Midwest, Lower Midwest, the Mid South, South, etc., and Canada. 

If anything, misery loves company.  Everyone, except Blobby, is cold.  Well, he may be cold, but Blobby doesn't let it slow him down.  He's either cooking or running or doing something. 

For Cookie, this type of cold feels heavy, like a burden.  

It takes more from you to get up and walk the dogs, to take out the trash, to get the car cleaned off.  Trips get canceled, and that sort of thing. 

And it takes a lot out of the Husband who has been working nonstop for the last week, and under a mountain of pressure.  I feel a spousal sense of obligation to help him.  So the laundry gets done and folded, errands get done, shopping gets done.  But not walking the dogs.  He needs to leave his office, which I have named the "Crows Nest", get out, get some air and walk. 

In other news, I think I found a general practitioner and a dermatologist.  Given the surgeries to remove diseased bits from me, I am due to see a GP.  And January is my mole check month. (I know, but "as we grow older", things can develop.)

Still, the people of Northeast Ohio continue to be wonderful. Every now and then you meet someone not at their best, but we all have off days. And who amongst us doesn't have a bad day, and that isn't a question. 

I have started keeping a list of all the places I want to go and see when the weather breaks.  I have research trips planned for Canton (Ohio, not China), and points south.  I have also been driving about, going down roads, and reacclimating myself.  In the spring, I want to walk the Euclid Creek path, from top to bottom.  I want to explore Lakeview Cemetery.  And I want to become more familiar with the west side.  

Sometimes we need the cold restrictive times to nest, to think, to plan, so we can revel in spring when the days grow longer, the smell of wet earth blossoms, and the crocus pop up with those first peeps of color. Mother nature has goals, and first time in a very long time, so do I. 

*Not the actual Doris, but the best representation I have ever seen.