Early to bed, early to rise, blablablablablabla

Unless I have a damn good reason, I get up at eight in the morning. But since I've had the impending move on my mind, if (when!) I wake earlier, I think "Why not?", and get up and face the day. I'm afraid this could become a habit, and one thing this move will have me doing is getting up with the birds. I remember I used to wake with the birds at 61. The crows! Oh, those crows!

I really have little to talk about. Or, a lot. I listened to an NPR show recently, a round table of NE Ohio leaders, discussing what we are going to do to accommodate the coming influx of immigrants from other parts of the country. My first thought, as I began listening, was "where the hell are they coming from? Africa? Asia? Eastern Europe?"

The answer is No, they are coming from our West, South, Midwest. They are leaving heat, fires, coastal erosion, hurricanes, water shortages. But NE Ohio? Come on! We have lost population annually since the decline of unionized manufacturing, in the fifties.

It was a good listen, however. They discussed our infrastructure, our housing stock, our people, our power grid, our water, our ability to improve and increase what we do have to offer. Ann happened to call that afternoon, and I told her about the influx of population apparently set to happen. And she said I'd better believe it; it's happening all over Wisconsin!

She has several new kennel customers who are transplants from California, Washington, Arizona. Their biggest adjustment was the cold. The consensus was, "back home" they would have hunkered down behind closed doors to wait for spring. "But these people! They go out in it! Put on a lot of clothes and a hat and gloves and ski. Sled ride. Hike."

So that's something to look forward to, a lot of new people to meet.

Back when Beth was doing the Flea with me, she told me about a new recipe, Zucchinibutter Spaghetti. The first word is Zucchinibutter. She said the zucchini becomes the butter. I finally made it, earlier this week, and texted her, the only thing better than Zucchinibutter Spaghetti is ZBS the second night. Recipe follows.

My house is turning into a cardboard box. I got up this morning at seven, and was packing shortly.

Cathy brings boxes most every day; these are all that I have left. I should come out even.

Not this weekend, but next, I should be out disassembling my plants. With apologies.

I love how the mandevilla twine around their pole, and I hope they forgive me next year.

And with no further ado, Zucchinibutter Spaghetti. You won't be sorry.