Hopefully, you have blue skies and the air is crisp with winter. We've had a year of rain and some gray days. And for extra special interesting day, we have ice or snow.
Gray days are when I throw a light blanket on me and hit the couch. I grab the channel changer and head to the movie stations and settle in for a long stretch, the requisite diet drink and popcorn by my side. Sometimes, I'll haul out my needlepoint and watch and work. The hours slip by as I go from one movie to the next.
Once, Handsome asked me what I wanted for my birthday. He laughed when I named two girly movies, popcorn and a cold drink. No boys. No man. No housework. Nothing. Just me and my movies.
It was a really great day.
As a youngster, my bleh days weren't so bad. With three sisters, I had built-in playmates. We played a lot of board games, card games, did puzzles, and read. Sometimes, the non-network TV station showed a really good old movie. Sometimes, we baked cookies or other treats.
The best part of this time of year is we can slow down from our hectic pace and get back to ourselves. To indulge just a bit. To laugh and to love. To read.
What do you indulge in when you have a rainy day?
Here's an excerpt from my romantic comedy mystery, Temporarily Employed:
No frisking and no arrests were--so far, in my book--a good thing. As Sarah Anne’s older brother, I found it easy to eliminate him from the stalker, murderer, and rapist categories. The something in the truck line sounded similar to approaches used in past dating experiences. For instance:
“Want to come up and look at my etchings?”
Translated: A roll in the hay.
Or the ever popular “Would you like to meet Mr. Lizard?”
Translated: Mr. Wiggly Worm.
“How about coming to my place for a drink?"
Translated: To ply me with multiple drinks and the requisite roll in the hay.
I hadn’t fallen for those then and wasn’t going to be a sucker now.
He stuck his hands on his hip and said, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a stalker, murderer, or rapist."
Apparently, he could read minds.
"Just a minute." I closed the door partially to release the chain, then opened it. “Why can’t you just tell me whatever it is?”
“No. I want to show you---”
“Not a Picasso?” I asked.
“Not an iguana?”
A perplexed expression crossed his face. “A what?”
“Not your pet worm?”
“What pet worm?”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking. The only worms I know about are for fishing.”
May your days be full of
good reads and great fun!