Winter Bones

It’s the week of the Polar Vortex. I don’t know what that means but it sounds like a lot of people will be dying of exposure. Conversely, the polar bears are dying in because it’s too warm in the Arctic. In short: it’s crazy out there.

If you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know that we saw an owl in the trees in the woods across the street. That’s one of only 12 things that have happened in the last year or so, according to my Insta-account-gram anyway.

Here’s the owl:


photo credit: Phineas B. Kelly

2019 is promising to be a year ripe with Instagram-worthy opportunities (aren’t they all), if I can ever get over the embarrassment of the performative aspects of social media. I plan to offer up plenty of insta-awesome snapshots…my head thrown back, laughing, while I ride in a convertible with my grrls, my blond hair flowing, kombucha in hand. Seriously though, I do have a lot of plans. Tuesday is the day I’ll post amusing anecdotes and such—dispatches from the Creative Life™— because I have preemptively declared blogging to be back in vogue.

So, enjoy the owl for now, with the promise of more owls—literal and metaphorical—to come.


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