We woke up to a lot of snow on the ground, smothering the trees and hiding the sky. It was enervating to get out there and shovel while the dogs played like puppies.
I went to fill up the gas tank when the power went out in half the town. There I stood with the nozzle jammed in the car's filler neck while people exited shops up and down the street. Snow continued to fall from the sky and for one brief moment I thought I was stuck. $5 does little to fill the gas tank these days. I drove down the road and managed to fill up there.
Then I headed down the highway to spend time with my writing partner. We talked writing, life, writing, politics, writing, publishing, writing, food and followed it all up with more writing talk. Over Greek salad we discussed our current projects and the directions we're taking them. Cheesecake with a hint of lemon was given our undivided attention.
The drive home was uneventful while I pondered my family roots. My people weren't famous(on my dad's side anyway). They were the ones who kept things working and did the heavy lifting - line workers, farm workers, gardeners, bookkeepers and nurses. They may be harder to find in history books or on museum walls but they are the people who helped the ones whose lives are celebrated. That's something to be proud of, I think. The support team is a vital component of any success.