Thank God for Masha

Winter Clothes

Under my hood I have a hat
And under that
My hair is flat.
Under my coat
My sweater's blue.
My sweater's red.
I'm wearing two.
My muffler muffles to my chin
And round my neck
And then tucks in.
My gloves were knitted
By my aunts.
I've mittens too
And pants
And pants
And boots
And shoes
With socks inside.
The boots are rubber, red and wide.
And when I walk
I must not fall
Because I can't get up at all.

-Karla Kuskin

This poem by Karla Kuskin describes me to a t. Not a t-shirt, because I don't get to wear those any more. I told Masha that this poem was about me, but she said, "No, it's not about you! You don't wear enough!" She thinks she's my mom. But after all, I do need somebody to help me with all those clothes. Thanks to her I've probably avoided death by strangulation, (Help, helg ggaggaggggg...somebody please, it's got me in its death grip...guguuuggggggg) Yes, she's saved me, but it's only out of the frying pan and into the fire...suffocation being the alternative.

I seem to have a profound talent for getting tangled in my scarf and despositing my gloves in random inconvenient places. And a while back I actually dropped my Bible on the road without realizing it one afternoon on the way home from church. Amazingly, somebody found it and I got it back that evening, which was pretty much a miracle.

On the way out of the yard this evening, Masha stopped me to tuck the hood of my hoodie into my coat with my scarf, which was in front of my coat hood below my hat...see how complicated it is?

I'm very glad to have Masha for a friend. It's nice to live with someone who tucks in my scarf, steers me out of mud puddles, and is a fabulous cook on top of that. My tummy is still happy from those mashed potatoes and fried onions. This girl has converted me into a potato lover. Or is it the sour cream? One way or another, she works her magic.

They are so beautiful, these quiet winter afternoons in the warm kitchen, sharing good food with a good friend. I'm glad to be here.