It’s 8 degrees. The weatherman is forecasting another possible 18 inches of snow for Monday.
It’s time to bring out the big guns.
At my first job out of college I worked at a weekly paper here in Fairfield County whose publisher had an unbreakable edict: cute kid or pet above the fold in every edition.
I can’t believe I’m clinging to that saw, but desperate times… well, you know the rest.
So here you have a cute kid (c’mon she is, isn’t she?) channeling summer.
It’s Catherine, 18 months old, in 1997, at my parents’ house, wading in the pool they bought her. That’s my mom, Ginger Salvatore, too.
(For awhile, I was also in the pool; no, you won’t be seeing those photos.)
The pool was a big hit. After a day spent splashing and filling Grandma’s Rubbermaid containers, then dumping them, over and over, we had to bring it across the Tappan Zee to our house. There it got a lot of play in the back yard.
(Incidentally, “The 101 Dalmations” was one of a beloved library of Disney films in regular rotation at the time. I’m not sure how many times we watched those cute puppies escape Cruella Deville, but it was … a. lot.)
In the background, sitting sentinel, is Sam. He is long gone now, but at the time was a huge friend to Catherine. He looked out for her, allowed her to pull his tail and grab fistfuls of his fur in her attempts to “pet” him. And heaven forbid if she made the least little sound and I didn’t pick her up immediately. Sam would be at my side, training his brown eyes on me, as if to say,”You’re not doing your job; get a move on.”
One day soon we’ll be complaining of the heat and humidity, (almost) wishing for the relief of a snow day.
Today, though, I wish I was back in this pool.