There's a cold wind blowing, and it's the wrath of Lake Erie

Yes. "Lake Effect". I used to mock the concept. Key words: used to. Now, I stumble along through the blinding winds and silently curse Lake Erie until I've safely reached the indoors. And then I curse the bitch aloud. She can't hear me in there. Yeah, I know it's one of the great lakes, but her greatness ends at the front door.

Anyway, this weekend was warmish. So I suppose the Lake Effect isn't what's making the temperature stick at around 25 degrees today. It was snowing on the way in to work today. This is the kind of weather winter babies live for. I am a spring baby though, so this is torture. I've recently begun to draw the parallel between the month you were born in and your seasonal preference. I have yet to meet anyone who has waivered from the pattern. Sonny was born in the fall, so he's mad about fall weather. I love the spring. My mom enjoys the summer weather, and she was born in the summer.

So, last month the sister of one of my coworkers passed away. It was very sad indeed. But never have I witnessed someone handle such a painful situation with as much composure. She took the weekend off and was back to work Monday. If I didn't find the notice on my desk, I wouldn't have known anything was even wrong. The notice told her the death and asked that anyone able (and interested) help with the grievance fund that was developing. I reread the flier in a somber mood and sighed, resolving that I would drop $20 into that envelope when it came my way.

"That's a bit much, honey." Sonny grimaced, recoiled a little when I told him of my plan.

"Too much? I thought it wasn't enough!" I chewed my thumb nail (as I sometimes do when I'm pondering) and reread the notice.

Maybe I put too much emphasis on the amount to donate, and not enough on the cause of the donation. It was to help this poor woman's family in their deep and dark time of need. My hesitation as to whether I should give more than 20 or less than 20, prevented me from giving during that first week of collection. Another week passed and I still had not decided. And then another week passed. By now, I knew it was just too damn late. The collection had probably already been handed to the recipient, which meant that I would have to put the money in her hand. I didn't want to do that. So I sulked.

I've noticed lately that I'm no longer as warmly greeted as I once was from the small band of co-workers close to the woman who lost her sister. There was a sense (from some of them at least) that I was an unusual new workplace element, but that they would do their best to draw me from my shell...to make me a part of the team. Now, I am no longer informed when there will be a "food fiesta" or when they've decided to declare it "dress down day". I have completely (inadvertently) amputated myself from the close-knit group of coworkers.

I'm not a monster. I mean, Sonny convinced me that while the collection opportunity had passed, I could still pull the woman to the side and give her my sympathies. I decided to do what I do best: write her. And I did. The first card sucked. And Sonny had to suppress his facial expressions as he read it. Man, it wasn't that bad, honey. Anyway, I ripped it to shiny pathetic bits and tossed it in the trash. Next card. This one was better, much more heart-felt and I sent it to our workplace. She should have received it today. Now I am just waiting for the Warrior Princess cry and the 7 of them to descend upon me and rain down the shredded card on my head. ("You should have joined the collection effort with the rest of us, this card is terrible!")

I hope I did the right thing...I pray the card did convey my most heart-felt sympathies...