WEATHER, WINTER GAMES, PUTIN, PAPERS, AND “IT’S”

Today the sun is bright on what’s left of our old snow. But I feel dreadfully sorry for those suffering from extreme cold in the northeastern part of our country. I read yesterday 71 had died from it and there will surely be more. It is probably colder than usual here, but I am blessed to be in this comfortable building and not have to go out in the cold. When I went out Thursday, I wore neither gloves nor head covering.

One particular place being watched with regard to the weather and especially to terrorists is the geographic area around Sochi, Russia. I hope the host country will be amply prepared to deter any criminal assaults against the Winter Games. In America, the events will most likely be watched with greater interest than usual, just because of the possible threat. Perhaps we may see just what Putin’s KGB can do in a good way.

I decided to get up this morning when I wanted to, which was after 9:00, and not go downstairs for lunch. There is so much to do here, papers to go through and the like. I will pick up my mail when I go down to supper. Sorting papers can take longer than many might think with their “Why not just pitch the lot?” I have discarded some and regretted it afterwards. So, I’m keeping some of the others, but just where will I put them for my family to know they should keep them—at least for a while? Ah, this apartment has a safe with nothing in it. There’s the place.

What sort of papers am I talking about? Well, love letters, for example, from former students. (And from my husband, if any of those are still around.) And those from other writers, or from hopeful aspirants of writing. I recall one that may be still found here somewhere, from a published writer. He was thanking me for the opportunity to meet with other writers every second Monday in my home for a period of five years. He said he admired me for I knew how to spell “it’s” and “its.” I had explained more than once that “it’s” always means “it is,” and “its” is always a possessive, like his or her, as in “its boots” (referring to a cat-in-boots). He couldn’t understand why he could not remember that. I knew why. He hadn’t learned it in elementary school and here he was past 80, trying to learn it! There are a lot of letters and notes in such a vein. No one may ever really know me till these are found and read. ♥