Song Lyric Sunday: Cold as Ice

Image contains: Abbie, smiling.The theme from newepicauthor this week is “freeze/cold/ice.” The song I’m featuring was popular in the late 1970’s when I was in high school. At the time, I was on the speech team, and we listened to it often while traveling to and from meats or while hanging out at the meets between rounds. Enjoy, and have a super Sunday!

Foreigner–Cold as Ice

 

You’re as cold as ice
You’re willing to sacrifice our love
You never take advice
Someday you’ll pay the price, I know
I’ve seen it before
It happens all the time
Closing the door
You leave the world behind
You’re digging for gold
Yet throwing away
A fortune in feelings
But someday you’ll pay
You’re as cold as ice
You’re willing to sacrifice our love
You want paradise
But someday you’ll pay the price, I know
I’ve seen it before
It happens all the time
Closing the door
You leave the world behind
You’re digging for gold
Yet throwing away
A fortune in feelings
But someday you’ll pay
You know that you are
(Cold, cold) (as, as) (ice)
As cold as ice to me
(Cold, cold, cold) (as, as, as) (ice)
You’re as cold as ice
(Cold as ice)
Cold as ice I know
(You’re as cold as ice)
You’re as cold as ice
(Cold as ice)
Cold as ice I know
(You’re as cold as ice)
Oh, yes I know
(Cold as ice)
(You’re as cold as ice)
You’re as cold as ice
(Cold as ice)
Cold as ice I know
(You’re as cold as ice)
Oh, yes I know
(Cold as ice)
Songwriters: Lou Gramm / Mick Jones
Cold as Ice lyrics © Songtrust Ave, Somerset Songs Publishing Inc

 

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My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

How to Build a better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

We Shall Overcome

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The Parking Lot Slog

Thanks to Alice Massa for inspiring this. In her post, she shares her winter travel adventures with her guide dog and explains why her accomplishments should have earned her an Olympic medal. I don’t have a guide dog, but here’s something I did last week that should have earned me an Olympic medal.

Last Thursday, a friend, who uses a walker, picked me up, and we drove to a restaurant downtown where we planned to meet others for our monthly friendship club luncheon. There were no empty parking spaces close to the restaurant, so we ended up in a lot about half a block away. Most of the week had been cold, with temperatures only in the teens most of the time, dropping below zero at night. On this particular day though, it was up to thirty degrees, which meant everything was turning to slush, including the parking lot.

The only thing to do was slog through the slush. Because of fear of falling at our age, my friend and I, clinging to her walker for dear life, made our way through the slush like two little old ladies out for an afternoon walk. We somehow managed to get to the street and across it to the sidewalk, which was clear, without falling flat on our backs. Now that should have earned us a gold medal.

Can you think of any winter adventures you survived that should have earned you an Olympic medal? I hope you’re staying warm and upright through these frigid, treacherous winter months. Take heart. Spring is just around the corner.

***

Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
Like Me on Facebook.

***

Letter to Mother Nature

Abbie-1

Thanks to Alice Massa for inspiring this post.

***

Dear Mother Nature,

 

Since the week before Thanksgiving, all we’ve seen, here in Wyoming, is snow, snow, and more snow and bitter, bitter cold. At first, it was great. It got me in the mood to work on seasonal music for my performances and write Christmas letters and holiday blog posts.

Then, it got old fast. This year, thanks to you, Sheridan had a white Christmas, with ten inches of snow dumped on us and plenty of wind. For me and others not traveling out of town, it was okay. For those needing to get home the day after Christmas, it was not so good, as road closures abounded.

The snow and freezing temperatures continued after the holidays with no sign of warmer weather. Two days after the first of the year, as I was flying to Florida, it was so cold the pilot had to rev the engines several times to warm them, and I couldn’t help wondering if the plane would get off the ground.

Of course it did, and Florida provided a welcome respite from your brutality, with plenty of sunshine and 70-degree days most of the time. When I ended up spending the night in Denver on my way home because of a flight delay, I was pleasantly surprised to find no snow on the ground. I hoped you were showing our neck of the woods the same courtesy, but that hope was dashed the next day, as my plane approached Sheridan, and you created a great deal of turbulence. It’s a wonder I didn’t lose my breakfast. Soon after my homecoming, you gave Sheridan another eleven inches of snow.

I don’t know why they call you Mother Nature. You’re definitely not my mother. My mother would never have made it almost impossible for me to walk anywhere by depositing a multitude of snow and ice on the ground and not letting it melt before dropping more. She would never have frozen me to the core with sub-zero temperatures, then mocked me with sunshine that gave the impression it was warmer.

Why couldn’t you have given us the same treatment as Denver, warm winds and sixty-degree temperatures? I know Wyoming isn’t the only state you’re bullying, but places like California are still in drought, yet you ignore them and give the rest of us moisture we no longer need. I’ve just about had it with you.

 

Signed,

Frozen in Wyoming

***

Author Abbie Johnson Taylor

We Shall Overcome

How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver

That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds

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Like me on Facebook.

 

Sick of Winter

Spring can come any time as far as I’m concerned. I’m tired of looking at snow, feeling arctic air on my face, and walking like a little old lady over ice to keep from ending up horizontal. I live on a side street built into a hill. In order to get anywhere on foot, I have to ascend and descend an incline. Sidewalks aren’t always shoveled, and the street is a mess because the city only bothers to plow main thoroughfares. This makes walking out of the question so since I don’t drive because of my visual impairment, I must depend on the Minibus and friends for transportation during this time of year.

I could move to Florida to be closer to my brother, but it’s miserably hot and muggy during the summer, as I discovered last year when I attended his wedding in July. Besides, my house is paid for, and relocating would be a big hassle. I’ve grown attached to Sheridan, despite its idiosyncrasies, so I’ll stay put and complain about winter in Wyoming.

AN ELEMENT OF WHITE

I knew it was coming,

but silent, unwelcome,

it crept into my awareness.

When I looked out the window,

It was everywhere, the sidewalk,

grass, street all covered in milky white.

Unexpected, unwanted, there it was.

I couldn’t make it go away.

From That’s Life: New and Selected Poems

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Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author

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