People have always told me that I have a green thumb. But last week I sprouted a green arm. Really. Actually, I fell on the ice on my way out to shovel some of the 58 inches of snow we’ve received so far this winter (yes, I have Yaktrax) and broke my right arm (that’s me being optimistic with my new green cast). It’s just one more personal challenge in what has come to feel to me like a new reality TV show called Survivor Iowa. Never mind that I stupidly scheduled my kitchen renovation during this harshest time of year with temperatures regularly below zero—try figuring out how to make coffee one-handed with no sink—but I’ve effectively cut off half the house from my two good dogs during a severe bout of cabin fever worthy of the Arctic Circle. Add to that the foot-deep ice dams that keep forming on the south-facing eaves of my house and my half-frozen pipes and the very real fact that I cannot shovel my own snow and you get the general pathetic idea. I even had to ask Heather here at work to cut the sleeve of my Carhart so I could fit a coat over my cast. But I’m going to try to stay positive. At least my clivias are blooming.
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