Mondays with Margie

Wonderful coffee with Margie this morning. It's snowing big beautiful flakes but warm enough that the snow isn't sticking and the sidewalks aren't frozen, so we ventured out. Margie tells me everyone keeps telling her she's 93, but her birthday isn't till September. 

"So you're really only 92 and a half!" I insisted. "Yes," she said. "Everyone likes to exaggerate!"

I had just received more photos from my (distant) family in Latvia and was bubbling with excitement and curiosity about them. My great-grandparents are in the Extra. I rather think I resemble my great-grandmother, but maybe I'm just projecting. She looks a bit severe, and he looks a rather disagreeable fellow; it may have only been the conditions under which they were being photographed, but I imagine those long Latvian winters must have seemed endless. No wonder their son, my paternal grandfather, ended up in Florida.

My cousins in Florida are talking about flying over to Latvia this coming summer to see the land we come from and to meet our cousins.

My thanks for stars, hearts, and comments. I am fiercely busy living my life just now and not commenting much. I see Olivia Colman won the Oscar for her creation of the fictional Queen Anne she was tasked with creating. Her acting was brilliant, I agree, but I'm sad that one of the few recent movies that focuses on relationships among women views all three as unkind, manipulative, conniving, and power-mad.