You Can't Make Me

All through adulthood, I've wondered when I am going to feel like a grown-up.

I thought maybe 21 was the magic age. Then 30. Then 40. Then 50. Then I gave up.

I'm not sure if this is a byproduct of being the fifth-born in a brood of six. Or if it's just my personality type. But in a room full of adults, I still have the uneasy sensation that I'm an imposter.

Lucky for me, I married someone who is also childlike in many ways.

Appropriately, on our first date we saw an animated feature, and that seemed to have set the stage for our life. It quickly became apparent that we were never going to be on the fast-track to a vice-presidency. We would always be "those parents" who brought unhealthy snacks to school and sporting events. And whenever asked to volunteer, we would duck.

Neither of us feels like we've figured out life. We still act like neophytes in the learning department, eager to grasp new concepts, hungry for knowledge like starved rats in a cheese factory.

Our house may look like an annex to the Cleveland Public Library, but it does feel like a home. And, in spite of everything, we laugh. A lot.

Alas, our wicked sense of humor has found its way to our son. When discussing what Christmas gift to get his dad, he replied, "How about an urn with a plaque that reads, 'coming soon'?"

There are three ways for children to learn lessons from their parents. One is by imitation, the other is to hit the reject button and head in the opposite direction. And then, there is a third way. To cherry pick the things you thought your parents did well, and let go of the rest.

Obviously, what we let go of was being an adult.

Although, come to think of it, my dad was an unlikely prankster. We occasionally did see my parents being silly. And, in a drawing of my father-in-law on his retirement, he is depicted with a plunger in his hand.

So I'd say, yes, we can blame at least some of this on our parents.

I guess our kid is doomed.

Sorry, Joe.

Pussy Hats Galore

As we parked the car at the Rapid Transit station, I was a little sad to see it wasn't as packed as it was for last year's Women's March.

I needn't have worried.

(Mayor Tom L. Johnson behind me)

We boarded the train and easily found a seat, but it continued to fill up, and was standing room only by the time we arrived downtown.

And as we gathered in Public Square, I saw that there were, in fact, a crap-ton of people assembled and ready to rally.

The Cleveland Police Department estimates 7,000 people marched today, considerably less than the 15,000 who did so last year, but still a respectable number.

As he did last year, Mr. Ginley marched beside me and my fellow re-sisters, as did many other husbands, fathers and brothers.

For anyone who hasn't been there, it's difficult to describe the rush that comes from the collective energy generated by these women and men. It is an amazing feeling, especially after all of the horrific events inflicted on us by our government this past year.

The signs the crowd carried ranged from poignant to hilarious. My personal favorite, as it was last year, is "Love Trumps Hate." I also like, "I'm With Her," the poster that features a photo of the Statue of Liberty.

Photos courtesy of Mr. Ginley

Although, I have to say, I was tickled by the sign that read, "Feminism is my second favorite F word."

I believe we took to the streets for many reasons. To safeguard women's rights, certainly. But also to fight for our environment, for DACA, for civility and for simple human kindness.

Judging by comments on social media, there is a lot of vitriol being thrown at those who marched.

I don't give a fat rat's ass.

I was in exquisite company today. I'm proud to march with my sisters. I believe in them. I am buoyed by them. They inspire me.

And there's no place else I would have rather been today than marching by their side.

All the Way to Neptune

Spoiler alert: For anyone who was hoping I'd come in today and regale you with tales of adventure from my vacation this past week, alas, this week's post will disappoint.

No Mickey Mouse ears on this mouse. No cocktails on the beach. Or sightings of George Clooney. No snapshots of ancient ruins or sipping coffee with my secret lover in a Paris cafe.

I rather enjoyed running through all these scenarios in my head just now. But alas, that's where they shall remain. So if you want to bail here, feel free. I understand.

It was the kind of vacation I needed, one with no itinerary. We woke up each day, Mr. Ginley asked, "What do you want to do today? It's your vacation. If you weren't here, I'd just be doing the laundry or vacuuming." I replied, "I don't know, what do you think?" And it went along pretty much like this each day.

The weather had a lot to do with our plans. Monday, for example, we only ventured out to walk to the library. And later to Hatfield's. (Ken posted a photo of the sweet potato pie he was was just taking out of the oven, so we ran up there post haste. It was still warm. So gooood.)

Tuesday: We'd discussed going to the art museum downtown, but we were so slow getting up and about, we decided to go to the museum in Oberlin instead. It had a little of everything, from antiquities to Andy Warhol. An eclectic display of this and that to make things interesting. Afterward, we ate at a place called The Fev. Pub grub, kicked up a notch for the college crowd. Then we found a bookstore, and Mr. was a happy camper.

On Wednesday, it was clothes shopping. Alas, I was not the smart shopper, I realized as I stood in line with my purchases and noticed my coupon did not go into effect until the following day. I sucked it up and paid for my stuff. I did not want to return. One day in the "Chair of Shame" for Mr. Ginley was all I could ask.

Thursday it was ridiculously warm, but it rained. We managed to find a dry period and did the Planet Walk in the Valley.  (Hence, the reference to Neptune.) We are still sad that Pluto is gone -- it does shorten our stroll considerably. (The Planet Walk has markers based on the relative distance of the planets from the sun, so Pluto was a very good stretch of the legs, indeed.)

Friday was my eye doctor appointment. With the threat of the impending ice storm and the nasty rain that was already in place, we decided to scuttle home and hunker down.

On the plus side, I've done a few jigsaw puzzles, read some and watched several episodes of "Call the Midwife."

Best of all, I was off the grid as far as work was concerned, so I really feel like I got a good rest.

A feeling which should last until Monday morning at approximately 8:35.

Mr. Snow Miser Comes to Stay

So, here we are, in the gazillionth day of our sub-freezing extravaganza.

Everywhere, folks are wheezing and sneezing and coughing. A big topic at the water cooler is whether zinc really helps to prevent anything and how doctors are prescribing saline nose spray more than they used to.

Ah, to be in Northeast Ohio in the winter!

Of course, there are those folks who managed to escape for awhile. To the south or the west or anyplace where you can step outside without six layers of clothing and winter accessories. I'll have to live vicariously through them.

Next week, "hunkering down indoors" will be our primary vacation destination. I'm trying to use up the last of my PTO for the year. I imagine our travels will be to exotic places like the mall or the library or to see a movie, maybe.

On the up side, the temperatures are supposed to warm up considerably tomorrow. On the down side, more snow is predicted.

And anyone wonders whether God has a sense of humor. Hah!

It has been amusing reading the forecast in the paper. I do believe they've run out of ways to say "cold," although they haven't yet resorted to "cold as a witch's (body part)" or "too f***ing cold for life."

I imagine one day in my dotage I'll be harkening back to these days with phrases like, "This is nothing, why the winter of '17-'18 was colder than anything you could imagine."

My fear is that, with climate change, this winter will become the norm, not the exception.

For now, I am grateful for my warm home, blankets and Netflix.

And for the birds I heard chirping away this morning.

I hope they know something I don't know.