No sleep- part two

not to mention the college nights I shouted with my sisters, "No sleep tonight!" And I want to, I really want to, but I can not do it. I admit defeat. Even the many times that I have experienced deaths in the family, traveled to Florida on Spring Break and the two times I flew to Europe. I slept at least part of the way  through it. So. Sorry. I apologize.  And I respect those of you who can do it. It is on my life list, though, so who knows? Maybe all I have to do is visualize the experience. Maybe all I have to do is admit that my body will not truly sleep until, like my Mother used to always say, I am dead. Maybe I get to be awake just exactly the number of hours I can stand to be. And maybe I get to be asleep so I can dream and stay as beautiful as my late mother was. Whatever the truth or reason is, it astounds me that other people are not like me. And I could not be more thankful that they are not. Sleep well. Or don't. Either way, remember that some of us simply will, no matter how much we fight it, sleep tonight!

All Nighter- but not really

As a self-proclaimed 8 hrs a night sleeper, 10 in winter--yes, I am a mammal and a Vermonter, not a bear--I just want to say that I have a great respect and admiration for those who choose not to sleep through the night. And, honestly, one of the reasons I must insist on 8 to 10 hours is that, in all reality, I probably sleep a total of six. And don't get me wrong--I have tried. I have honestly given it the good old college try. I once spent all but 10 minutes of a 24 hr stint stifling yawns and head nods, the night my nephew, Sterling, was born insisting that I had a second, third and fourth wind. But even then, I failed. I walked the zombie walk of shame to a dark and comfortable nurse's room, curled up on a love seat have my length and fell embarrassingly and dreamily asleep. (Sorry, Sterling, but you were fine as far as we knew at the time.)

And I do not even want to tell you about the times in college I, like all my sorority sisters, cried out, "No sleep tonight!" only to fall prey to the 2 am drop-dead celestial seige that held out a soft pillow and sheets with 500 plus thread count...

winter wonderland, continued

knights to keep the peasants safe. And there was always music and dancing. And those stories  always and forever began with Once Upon a Time and it was always a long, long, time ago in a place far, far away. And they always lived Happily Ever After...yes, they always had adversity to overcome, hard work scrubbing this or that, polishing someone else's silver, sweeping and mopping wooden floors on hands and knees. Cleaning fireplaces. Sweeping chimneys. Being forsaken by some prince because of a mean-spirited step sister.

 But never once was a kid lowered down a well with a rope tied around her waist and told to scrub the field stone rocks with a scrub brush dipped in bleach. Their parents did not ask them to stick their hands inside Mason jars because they were small enough to wash them out thoroughly. They never had to shovel 10 buckets of snow away from the leaky foundation every spring night before they got a snack and had just gotten off the school bus!

So, although there must have been snow a long time ago and so very far away, I had never heard that so I formulated the opinion that my life as a child in Vermont was one hell of a lot more difficult than even the brothers Grimm could think up in their dark, crazy minds. And, come to think of it, I still do. (But, don't get me wrong, I learned many a lesson. All the morals any story book could offer. I developed what my parents had---a strong institution, an ability to overcome any obstacle dropped in my path, and let's not forget, most importantly? Memories for stories such as this.)

winter wonderland

As a reader and great lover of fairy tales, ancient to re-told, I wonder why most of the ones--perhaps all--I grew up listening to involve summertime, walks in the woods, green fields of wild flowers, babbling brooks and children eating candy or young women eating forbidden fruit.  Nobody is wearing winter wool. Nobody is shoveling snow; not even as a punishment.  It's true that they live in ranshacle houses down by the river and are forever sending children off to forage for food, sell their only cow or just fend for themselves....but nobody is freezing, like in real life---at least where I come from. Not one kid, pig, goat or even big,bad wolf I ever read about had to cut a damn path through 6 feet of snow to get to grandma's house like I did when I was a kid in Vermont. There was no talk of outhouse runs at sub zero weather through the dark, scary woodshed with actual coyotes howling at the moon up on the ridge behind the house. Those fairy tale kids never even slept under woolen patchwork blankets their mothers made out of raggedy wool coats and hand-me-down kilts from their wealthy cousins. True there was a great dichotomy between the kings and the serfs, but there were knights  (Note: read Winter Wonderland, Continued)