A single, rural mama's ramblings about parenting boys, finding herself (oh brother), struggle and joy, juggling more jobs than you can shake a stick at, creativity as we attempt to not only survive but somehow live a fulfilling and rich life below the poverty line, humor as a coping mechanism when you'd be a basket case otherwise, and all the beauty that IS.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Normally, on Town Meeting day, we slog in from the parking lot with muddy boots and rush out again afterward to get back to the sugarhouses, but this year we woke to 10 below temps with no sugaring in sight. I was talked into covering the Town Meeting and School Meeting for the paper, which I haven't done for years and was sorely out of practice. Trying to jot down all the figures as budgets were discussed... well, me and numbers....we just don't get along. Hopefully there aren't too many misprints. At least that's one thing out of the way, this busiest of busy weeks, plus I am reminded afresh why I am a writer, not a reporter. And anyhow, there was pie.