Christmas Week

Here it is...the countdown.

Christmas is just days away.  Are you ready?  I have to admit, I am not.   My heart is beginning to race.  My list continues to grow.  My nights are interrupted by a brain in overdrive.  In other words, yep...
 I am about to panic.

Thankfully, I have a legion of Nutcrackers watching my back.

The tree finally has moved from

to

Whew!  I was a bit worried it would be finished.

The deer have taken their place.

Garlands are draped.

And Santa? 

Well, he continues to work into the night.

We are nearing the finish line.  

Sending you wishes for peace, joy and
 a Merry Christmas! 

 And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.

                        Luke 2:10

The Cold Air Cometh

How was your weekend?  

Are you busy preparing for Thanksgiving, or

are you already onto Christmas?

It was busy around here this weekend.  With temperatures threatening to fall below freezing, it was time for the big plant move-in.  We've had unseasonable warm (sometimes hot) weather, this autumn,  postponing the necessity to winterize the garden.  In other words, yes, I procrastinated. 

Saturday was spent cleaning out and storing garden pots,  rearranging and moving weather sensitive plants into the sunroom and garage.   Moving the Meyer Lemon is always a challenge, but well worth the effort.   We will enjoy these lemons through the holidays.  And, because of the warm autumn, I have tons of baby lemons.  (I'm always looking for the blessing.)  Keeping my fingers crossed I don't lose too many from the transition.   

Coming in wet  (I was the one with the hose cleaning the pots and saucers) and cold at the end of the day, soup was on the dinner menu.   

     

Using vegetables on hand,  from the freezer and grabbing a few things from the pantry it wasn't difficult to stir up my version of a Creole Vegetable Soup. Do you like making soups?  Soups are so easy to create; and they are good for the body and soul. 

Sunday afternoon was spent curled up with this month's book group selection, A Prayer for Owen Meany.  It is a reread for me.  I am enjoying it very much this second time around    Oops, with the sun streaming in, a little nap might have slipped in as well.  I do love Sunday afternoons!

Sending you a big Thank You for staying with me through my absences, and

wishing you a safe and Happy Thanksgiving!

A Holiday Exchange

As a young mother one of my favorite events was my mother's support group's annual cookie swap. Most of us had very young children and very little time for baking.  The idea was each member would bake enough of one type of cookie for each member to claim a dozen to take home to have on hand for the holidays.   It was always such fun to see the variety.

When Elizabeth at Pinecones and Acorns posted a "Virtual Cookie Exchange", I couldn't resisted pulling out a favorite Christmas (not technically cookie) recipe.

These rum balls are always a favorite at our Christmas Eve gathering.  Any leftovers are boxed up and sent home with our guests.     

Royal Rum Balls

(recipe from Christmas with Southern Living 1995)

Yield:  3 dozen

2 cups gingersnaps crumbs 

2 cups chocolate wafer crumbs

1 1/2 cups sifted powdered sugar

1 cup flaked coconut

1 cup ground pecans, toasted

1/3 cup pitted dates, chopped

1/3 cup dark rum

3 tablespoons light corn syrup

2 tablespoons butter, melted

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Additional powdered sugar and gingersnap crumbs

Position knife blade in food processor bowl; add first 6 ingredients.  Process until blended; add rum and next 3 ingredients.  Process until mixture holds together.

Shape into 1 1/4" balls.  Roll balls in additional powdered sugar or gingersnap crumbs.  Repeat rolling procedure.

If rum balls are made ahead, reroll balls in either  powdered sugar or gingersnap crumbs, to refreshen, before serving.

Book Ramblings

"When you saw her every day, you could forget that Nelle's novel was something so many people had in common...not just having read it but having been taken by it.  That kind of influence, of connection, is hard to grasp.  How do you measure the reach of a book that goes beyond staggering sales figures and Top Ten Favorite Books of all Time lists to something more profound, to the connection of readers to the story, of readers to one another, of one generation to the next?" 

                                                                                                Marja Mills 

                                                                                    The Mockingbird Next Door

There was never a question I would purchase it.   There was never a doubt I would read it.  My copy of Go Set a Watchman arrived wrapped in a brown paper package days after I left to help my daughter.  It was two and a half weeks before I would return, and three before I would unwrap it and begin reading.

Controversy has followed Harper Lee since the publication of To Kill a Mockingbird.  Many have long believed her dear friend, Truman Capote,  either authored or heavily edited "Mockingbird".  Lee most likely contributed to these rumors by staying away from the public eye and never having another book published.

Now, fifty-five years later another Harper Lee controversy.  Go Set a Watchman has been under the microscope from the day HarperCollins announced it would publish a newly found manuscript penned by none other than the reclusive Harper Lee.

Did Lee write this new find?
Did she authorize its publication?

Are these the reasons we want to dislike this book?
 Or, maybe we heard Atticus Finch is not the man we have admired for so many decades.

No matter, there was never a doubt I would read this book from the beginning word..."Since" to the very last..."head".  I did not love it.  The story is okay.  The writing is somewhat elementary, though we were warned this would be an unedited publication.  I couldn't embrace any of the characters.

After all the chatter about Atticus having a dark side, I awaited his fall from grace with each turn of the page.  For me, it didn't happen.   The Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird is a good man, a good father.  Yes, the Atticus Finch of Go Set a Watchman is fallible.  He is a man of his time and environment, and yet is able to set aside these prejudices to step up for what is right.  Who is most admirable?  The man who has no demons, or the man who, in spite of his beliefs, is able to put them behind and step up for what is just?

The above is a post I began in late July just after reading, Go Set a Watchman. 

One morning just before school began I met a good friend for coffee to catch-up with life.  After talking about our latest travels and families, our discussion, as always, turned to books.  We exchanged our respective book group lists for the new reading year, and discussed our latest book finds.  We had both reread To Kill a Mockingbird, and just finished Go Set a Watchman.    She shared her unswayable opinion of the newest release, and suggested I read The Mockingbird Next Door by Marja Mills.

A few weeks ago I found the time to read The Mockingbird Next Door, and found it throughly enjoyable.  Opening this book we are given intimate access to an author who has spent her life staying out of the public eye.   There is so much more within the pages of this book than just a biography of a reclusive writer.  I leave you with Elizabeth Berg's beautifully written review with hopes it might entice you to read this delightful book.

“You might come to The Mockingbird Next Door to find out why Harper Lee never wrote another novel. But you’ll stay with it for its lush evocation of the South, and for the insight into what made this reclusive author the person she became. In these pages, you’ll see the book-crowded house where Harper Lee lives with her sister, Alice. You’ll go along on outings, sit in living rooms and at restaurant tables with the Lees, read faxes they and the author send back and forth, and appreciate the small and not-so-small revelations they offer: life when they were growing up with their father, who was the model for Atticus Finch; how reading sustains a person for a lifetime, how deeply embedded values don’t change just because the times do, why it’s a good idea to regularly count the ducks you feed. I suppose we all thrill to the notion of learning personal things about a deeply private but world-famous person. What we don’t necessarily expect to see is how gently, respectfully and, above all, naturally it can be done. While I appreciated getting to see and hear the ‘real’ Harper Lee, I enjoyed as well the chance to meet Marja Mills, the woman who did what no one before her had because of her guileless trustworthiness, kindness, and care."


Happy Reading!
    

Time Passed

"Some things in life are out of your control.  You can make it a party or a tragedy."

Nora Roberts

I didn't mean to be away so long.
 One thing happened, then another.

Summer passed, I remember so little;
 now autumn is half gone.
One thing happened, then another.

A school year ended, and before I found time to breathe,
a fresh group of faces danced through my classroom door.
One thing happened, then another.

Time passed.

I've missed writing.
I've missed dreaming.
I've missed reading.
I've missed our conversations here.

I've been needed.
At times I feel I've lost control...
Then, I remember, lessons are learned, and
 blessings are found
 when we let go.

Time is precious, and doesn't stand still,
but when you are needed, wanted,
 it is not so hard to give it away without regret.

We will catch up!

Middle of the Week Thoughts

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” 

                                                                                        ― Mother Teresa

Look around,  more often than not we are all
doing the best we can.
Let's be gentle with one another.

Summer Dreaming

July...

Last I remember, is sitting quietly evaluating the past few months and looking forward to a month of rest and recuperation (reading and writing) before returning to classroom preparation and routine.   I've said it here before, "tell God your plans and listen to his laughing".

It wasn't meant to be.

August...

I have one week left before heading back to school for meetings, in-service and work days.  The temps here, in Arkansas, are reaching triple digits...there is heat and humidity...nothing sounds more pleasing than a tall glass of iced tea and a good book.   In my dreams I am relaxing on the porch listening to waves gently sweep the shore.  Sigh!

How is your summer reading going?

Life is good...
Enjoy the week-end!

So Many Rambling Thoughts

For thus hath the Lord said unto me,

Go, set a watchman,

let him declare what he seeth.

Isaiah 21:6

Boxes were opened at midnight; sales began today. 

 No book, in my lifetime, has been awaited with greater excitement or skepticism as Go Set a Watchman.   I had a "what was I thinking" moment yesterday when I realized I wouldn't have my own copy on the day of it's release.   There was a reason behind my madness when I walked into Square Books in Oxford, Mississippi, last March, and ordered my book, which now seems silly and a little embarrassing.  Today, I'm having a few regrets, as I would love to have this book in my hot little hands tonight.   

Will Harper Lee's new work be as impactful as To Kill a Mockingbird?  Will Atticus keep his hero status, or will we discover he is human, fallible and an ordinary man of the time?  When we return to Maycomb, Alabama will we be able to put the events (though not a reflection on Alabama or isolated to the south) of the past year aside, and remember this book was penned decades ago.  Or will today's temperature alter our reading? 

When I ask "what is your all time favorite book?", so many reply To Kill a Mockingbird.  I wonder if this is because of Lee's near perfect prose, or is there that little piece of something in us that wants to be the brave one who stands up against the masses, popular beliefs and all odds, and just does the right thing.  Or, is it simply a good story told by a great storyteller.

 Yes, To Kill a Mockingbird is a favorite of mine.  To be honest I can't tell you how old I was the first time I read it, but I remember the sadness, the heaviness of heart, it brought.  I am sure I was quite young because it opened my eyes to the meaning of having  two entrances to the movie theater, why there were different schools and churches, and why there were two sides of the railroad track.  It was the first time I understood things were not just different, but wrong.  This may have been my "coming of age" book, the one which forced me to see my small world in a different light.  

I always wanted my dad to measure up to Atticus Finch.  Daddy was a fair man.  He believed a person should be judged by merit.  I never heard him talk down to anyone, and he was always willing to step in to help someone in need.  But, I also know he was a man who grew up in a certain time and fought his own battles with ideas he was taught.   He was a man who kept his opinions to himself and out of other's business.  I've read we will see a different side of Atticus in this book.  We may find him not to be so noble, but more vulnerable to the temperament and thoughts of the time.   Perhaps I'll find my dad and Atticus nearer alike than I thought, and I am okay with that. 

So here I sit awaiting the delivery of my copy of Go Set a Watchman, I think I might reread To Kill a Mockingbird while I wait.

Is it on your "to read" list?
Are you reading it now?

Wednesday's Quotation

  

"Much more surprising things can happen to anyone who, 

when a disagreeable or discouraged thought comes into his mind, just has the sense to remember in time and push it out by putting in an agreeable, determinedly courageous one.

Two things cannot be in one place."

Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret Garden

Summer Reading

"One benefit of summer was that each day 

we had more light to read by."

Jeannette Wall,  The Glass Castle

This morning in church I sat with a friend, a fellow teacher.  I ask her how her summer was going.  (We have a four week summer program the month of June, so we've actually only been out a week.)  She said she hasn't slowed down, and asked what I had been up to.  I answered with one word...reading.

There is nothing I enjoy more in the summer than sitting outside and reading.  Oh, I keep up with the day-to-day chores, but when those are accomplished, and no one is calling my name,  I am ready to grab a glass of iced tea, a book, and find a shady spot in the garden (my poor neglected garden) to read.

In April I wrote (gushed) about Anthony Doerr's, All the Light We Cannot See.  I began telling everyone who would listen about it in November.   I am probably repeating myself; it was the best book I read in 2014.

The jury is still out, but I may have read my best book of 2015.  The author?
Anthony Doerr is destined to become a favorite.

About Grace

"He called them dreams.  Not Auguries or visions exactly, or presentiments or premonitions.  Calling them dreams let him edge as close as he could to what they were:  sensations --experiences, even-that visited him as he slept and faded after he woke, only to reemerge in the minutes or hours or days to come."

Do you have premonitions?
 I do... sometimes.

Sometimes they come in dreams.
Sometimes I awake with a foreboding feeling something is about to go wrong.
   Sometimes the phone will ring and I know who is calling.
I think of them as accidents.  Accidents perhaps brought on by prior gathered information, but unsettling all the same.

David Winkler had premonitions.  He dreams his daughter drowns in his arms while trying to save her.  Believing he can alter the future he leaves, abandoning his wife and daughter during the predicted flood.   Doerr takes us on David's journey from Alaska to the Caribbean, where with little money he manages to live and survive with the help of strangers.  Strangers who are also refuges with little means.   After twenty five years of unanswered phone calls and returned letters he saves the money to return home to face the consequences of his leaving.

 Doerr hands us a beautifully layered novel reminding the reader, we do the best we can with the information handed to us.  At some point we must make peace with our choices, make amends to those we love and learn to forgive ourselves.

What is your favorite book this year?
Bring it with you...we can talk.
You are always welcome in the garden.

******

To everyone who commented on my last post and sent personal emails, thank you.  I am humbled by your thoughts and prayers.   You raised me up, and I am grateful.  Hugs!

The Voice of Melancholy

When I started Living Life in 2010 I knew nothing about blogging (I still don't).  I wanted to write, to tell stories.  I wanted to write about living everyday and finding the blessings...
grace, in and among the ordinary...a good book, a simple meal, a smile.

Life is very much like writing.
Some days the words flow beautifully together creating something worth keeping.
The next there is struggle, emotion and nothing pretty comes from it.  Both are gifts.  One teaches gratitude, the other patience.  Right now I am frozen somewhere in-between.    

It has been a difficult couple of months.

It has been a long few years.  

I don't know where to begin; perhaps this is more about an end.
An end I saw coming.

I suppose that is exactly where I am at the present.  I am trying to move forward,

 but not ready to leave the past behind.  My heart is broken.

A month ago, I left the town where I grew up with two SUVs loaded.  My dad's life was sorted, divided and packed up before his funeral.  I will not say anything here, except the boxes have remained sealed.   I am not ready.  

I smile. 

 When asked, I reply I am doing okay...  

It is what most want to hear, grief is uncomfortable
when it belongs to someone else.
One day I will be okay.
I've been here before.

I've recently thought of closing Living Life, of just not returning.   I didn't know how to show back up on the page without exposing my heavy heart.  I then remembered why I began.  I wanted to write...I wanted to write about living everyday.  And, sometimes that living everyday gets messy.

 Loss and grief are thrown in front of all of us at sometime.  There is no escape.   We each cope differently, no one's grief is greater than another, and we move on, as best we can.  There is no right or wrong.  It is part of living this life.

The blessing...
 we heal...
time is the ointment....
memories the bandage.

Hugs to you all,

and thank you for reading!

Morning Thoughts

"The more faithfully you listen to the voice within you,

the better you will hear what is sounding outside.  And only

she who listens can speak"

                                                                           Dag Hamarksjold

All the Light We Cannot See

When I photographed the above group of books, I planned on writing a bit about my eclectic taste in literature, and briefly sharing thoughts on each title.  As usual, I am little behind.  The book I had planned on ending with, and profess to be the best book I read in 2014, has won the Pulitzer.  Wow...need I go further?

Congratulations to Anthony Doerr on winning the 2015 Pulitzer Prize for fiction.

There are so many summaries and reviews of All the Light We Cannot See,  I am seriously out of my league.  But, you know I'm going to jump off that cliff anyway.

Doerr transports us into the horrors and devastation of World War II with vivid detailed motion, alternating the stories of Marie-Laure and Werner Pfennig.  The young blind Marie-Laure, and her father leave Paris just as the Nazis enter the city.   Seeking refuge with a great uncle in the seaside town of Saint-Malo,  they carry with them a possession the Nazis are desperately seeking.

 Werner, an orphan, is recruited to join the Hitler Youth academy.   When it is discovered he is an expert at building and repairing radios, he is sent on special assignment to track the opposition.  In the field, Werner witnesses the heinous acts man will commit during war.  Following radio transmissions, he is brought to Saint-Malo where the two stories cross.

All the Light We Cannot See is definitely the best book I've read in awhile. 
What I liked:  The intense escalating narrative and well developed characters.
What I wanted:  More.

  If you haven't read it...pick it up at your local bookstore/library, set aside a day or two,  grab your favorite snack and beverage, and get comfortable.  Once drawn in you will lose all sense of time and space.  Have I convinced you?

Have you read All the Light We Cannot See?  I would love to hear your thoughts.

I'm reading Sandford Friedman's Conversations With Beethoven, and getting ready to pick-up  My Sunshine Away, M.O Walsh this week.

What are you reading?

Have a lovely week!

Correction and Owning Mistakes

Last night as I lay reading a selection from Anne Lamott's Small Victories I realized I misspelled her last name in my last post.   I have been following Ms. Lamott's writing since picking up her book, bird by bird almost 20 years ago.  I do not believe this is the first time I have made this mistake.  Though I have her books in front of me, I have often referred to her as Anne Lamont.  My apologies to you and to Ms. Lamott.  I believe names are important, and I must own my mistake.

Now that was yesterday's goof-up.  I wonder what I'll do today.

Have a great Friday!

To Every Season

To everything there is a season,

 and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die...

                                                                 Ecclesiastes 3             

 

                                                                 

Ecclesiastes 3 has always been one of my favorite passages.  It is my reminder everything has a time; everything changes.  There will always be good times   and there will always be heartbreak.  The trick is to find peace and the grace in both.  I can't say I am always successful in either the searching
 or the finding.  

  This time last year, I was filled with excitement and anticipation of the arrival of my first grandson.  I was hurriedly trying to tie up all the loose ends at school and preparing to leave when the call came.  Our little Wyatt took his time, and after a bump in the road, he arrived beautiful and with all his fingers and toes.  He was and still is such a blessing.  He makes my heart smile.  It is hard to believe he is going to turn one in just over a month.

Last year we awaited a birth...this year we are awaiting a final goodbye.   My dad, as I have been told by hospice, is at the end of his life.  Though he was taken from me three years ago by dementia, I would be lying if I said I am ready.  My brain tells me it is his time; he has lived an amazing long life, filled with adventure, but my heart is aching.  He didn't always choose the easy road, but he accepted his lot and never looked back.  I always thought the song "I Did it My Way" was talking about Daddy.

I've shared my dad's favorite piece of advice here often.  Whenever there were worries and fears, he would say, "you've got to put one foot in front of the other, and walk the path put in front of you".  I'm trying.

Easter, I spent the morning crying with him and holding his hand.  It was the first time he knew I was his daughter in three years.  It is only now I realize this may be the first time I ever truly experienced Easter.  And maybe, this is where grace has delivered me.

I attended an event featuring Ann Lamont last weekend.  Though I've read so many of her books, I was on the edge of my seat listening.  I forgot there were over eight hundred people in attendance.  I felt as if she was speaking to just me, and I didn't want to miss anything.  I had already read so many of the stories she told, but I thirstily drank in every word.  Somewhere in the middle, maybe near the end, she used the words "stop and be present".   I was transported back to my dad's room Easter morning.

I was so afraid as I walked down the corridor to my dad's room.  I walked to the foot of his bed, and he said, "it's my daughter, the best gift"; tears ran down his sunken cheeks.  My fear left.  The next few hours, I sat holding a ninety eight year old hand scarred by both age and life.  A hand that had held mine both physically and metaphorically for so many years.  It was my time to hold his hand.  I didn't fuss over him.  I didn't straighten he bed linens.  I simply sat and held his hand...I was present.

"I do not understand the mystery of grace--
only that it meets us where we are
and does not leave us where it found us."
                     Anne Lamont

Happy Easter

Happy Easter!

Spring Break

I'm on spring break this week.   The weather has been a bit fickled, as it often is here in the south.  We began with cool temperatures and rain.  A few days the sun brought warm, some might say hot, afternoons.  The kind of afternoons perfect for lounging outside with a glass of iced tea and a good book, or walking around checking on garden residents.

Here is a little of what I found.

Thanks to the late snow and cold temps, the hellebores

and Camillas are still showing off.

Despite a few (meyer) lemons left on the tree,

blooms have appeared awaiting the dance of the bumblebees assuring

next winters fruit.

The forsythia bloomed overnight, but looks as if her visit is to be brief.
She is not one to tarry once the sun turns on the heat.

A few hardy hyacinths soldier on, in spite of blooming during

the ice and snow.

The lilacs are ready to burst open, 

  

and the huechera  has new growth, handing me a bit of hope
the garden will survive in spite of last summer's neglect, and a winter with three dogs
running in and around doing what dogs do when let outside.

Today the rain and cool temperatures have returned, handing me a perfect afternoon
to settle in with a good book.

(I have books to talk about....)

How are you spending this first week of spring?

Ten Weeks Gone

It began at Christmas, and the end seemed so far away.

Bags and boxes were unpacked, furniture moved and rearranged, and 

changes became routine.

There were sleepless nights, sunny days perfect for walks in the park and around the neighborhood, first visits to the playground, and a long weekend for a road trip.  We had so much time to be together.

There were ice days,

and snow days,

and more snow days,

We awaited the New Year and the groundhog; celebrated  Mardi Gras, 

Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, milestones and birthdays. 

There were a lot of pizza creations

(another story for another time)

  

and nights of manic kitchen fun.

  

We know, though, time has a mind of his own; he is in constant forward motion... seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, and weeks to months.  We think we have forever, then forever is gone.  

In the end we watched our children reunite, then, with a full heart, bid them farewell,

 as they returned to their home and life.

The house is now silent... no more early wake-up calls.

No more late night talks.

It is bittersweet,

but it is how it is suppose to be.

I have a happy heart to have lived it;

and, I have memories to make me smile.

Cherish each moment with those you love.

Think...Happy

Who knew?

Watching a favorite morning news show I learned today is International Day of Happiness.  Did you know?  Bulletin boards have been set up in various cities for people to post the things
that make them happy.

Why does this excite me?
Happiness breeds happiness.
Happy thoughts can heal many ills.
I enjoy being around those who are positive and enjoy life.
One day is not going to solve problems, mend broken hearts or bring about
world peace, but it is a great place to begin; and, it may make someone's day
a little brighter.  Now, that is a happy thought!

Many many years ago I kept a notebook of all of my favorite things.   I seem to remember it began while listening to a lecture that was taking me to tears.   Through the days and months my notebook was taken over with my list and became a constant in my stack of books throughout the remainder of the school year.  I wish I had kept the notebook...I wish I had continued making the list.  It was one of those things, at a certain age, you look back at and think "how childish" and toss it aside.    Today, I don't think of it as childish at all.

It is without saying being with my family tops my list of happiness; here are
 a few random things that bring a joy to my heart.

...laughing out loud
...rising before daybreak for a little quiet time
...the beginning of the seasons
...my hands in the dirt
...the end of summer
...a good book
...heck, a stack of books
...a good glass of wine
...standing beside the ocean

My list could go on and on.  Now I want to hear from you.
What makes you happy?

Happiness doesn't belong to just one day.
It is for everyone, everyday.

I hope you are smiling!

What We Do

for those we love.

Did I mention there are three dogs living with me?  Two visitors and Willie.  

Willie is having a grand time with his buddy Waldi.  

The third canine is a retired and rescued greyhound.... a retired, rescued, geriatric greyhound.   Raven is a sweet animal, who is just old, and demanding.  I've nicknamed her "The Diva".  Most of the time she just wants the two youngsters to leave her alone and allow her to spend her time stretched out on her blanket.

However, when mealtime comes around or she needs to go outside she can become quite vocal.  She and I have had words more then a few times over her demanding ways.  The two sparing divas.

I have pretty much turn over my sunroom to them, and all has gone pretty smoothly...

until....

Monday morning we woke up to find a layer of ice covering the ground.   The dogs went out early and all seemed okay.  It continued to sleet most of the morning and they were able to keep their feet underneath them.  Later in the day, with a little melt and a refreeze, both the back and the front yards became skating rinks.

At the appointed afternoon bathroom time the door was open and the three took off.  Waldi and Willie had no problem.  They slip and slid.  They survived and didn't seem to mind.  Sweet Raven ran out and pretty much did the splits.  I heard my daughter scream, and I ran out to help.  It took both of us to lift her and ease her back into the house.   Once inside she was okay and returned to her chosen spot.

As night approached we began discussing how we were going to handle Raven's bathroom needs.   We both agreed she couldn't stand up on the ice.   I sprinkled flour hoping we might could create some traction... my five pound bag wasn't going to offer up much of anything but a mess.  I tried to break the ice with a hoe and a shovel.... let's just say I now understand how people have heart attacks when shoveling snow.  I barely made scratches. 

We tried to take her out the garage with hopes she would go to the bathroom on the driveway where earlier a car had been parked leaving a dry spot.   Needing to help her over a small patch of ice I found an old rug and sheets to spread over the ice.   We led her carefully across the bridge to the patch of driveway free of ice, but you know the saying...."you can take a horse to water..."?  Well the same applies to here.  The Diva stood looking at us, shivering.  We brought her back in and brainstormed a while longer.

Heather thought taking her to the front would be easier and safer.  She thought if we could get her onto the grass there would be enough traction for her to keep her balance.  But, how to get her over the ice covered path to the grass?

Yes, I moved the rug, sheet and various other items to make a path over the ice to the grass.

Yep, we love our pets and will do just about anything to make them happy, 

and keep them safe.  The ice is melting and hopefully all will be back to normal this evening.

I'm keeping the rug and stack of random finds ready just incase. 

I hope you are staying safe and warm.