Marc and I had spent a relaxing Sunday evening. After a walk together in the afternoon, I set about writing and Marc started preparations for dinner. French onion soup and a salad was a perfect complement to what I had once heard a friend describe as "an ice-chip-cold martini." Afterwards we took out a recent Netflix arrival and watched the first half of Golden Door (2006), a film by Italian director Emanuele Crialese about Sicilian immigration to the US. The publicity poster with its image of a stalwart Charlotte Gainsbourg had decorated every Paris kiosque Marc and I passed last March.
This morning after breakfast, I took my cardiologist up on his reassurances and bundled up to do the first round of the shovelling while Marc settled in with his work at the computer. By the time I got outside, one of our neighbors had arrived with his snow blower and made a first sweep of our walks and driveway. Our own snowblower has been in the shop the past couple of weeks, so the help was welcome. There was still cleaning up around the garage and the basement door that was needed, as well as attention to the shrubs and tree branches that were dragging on the ground.
After I finished up and showered, I got comfortable in a chair in our library. I am now into the third chapter of Eric Jay Dolin's Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America.
Life feels pretty good.
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