Riding on the streetcar I overhear a conversation between a father and his two kids of about eight and ten years old. He seems to be attempting to convince them that they will have fun with their mother, to where they are presumably on their way. The boy (the younger of the two) protests that they don’t get to do as much fun stuff like going to the
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Roar.
I'm spending every free moment (and there aren't many of them this time of year) writing. I find it gives me a way of escaping the gloominess of lingering winter weather.
I am also cheered by the fact that even on the harshest, windiest and most unrelenting snow storm days, daylight sticks around until well past 6:30 p.m. And confused birds and squirrels are in a frenzy in the leaf-less trees outside my office window.
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