This weekend, The Boy took my Dad to Montana where my brother and his family live so as to ‘help’ with a hockey tournament my nephews were playing in. I think ‘help’ translates to ‘watch hockey all weekend’ and occasionally means ‘run for food-stuffs and/or coffee’ but whatever. From what I gathered on Facebook and text messages, they enjoyed the time. Regardless, this left Muffy and me to our own devices since Wednesday…
We ate Knöpfle soup, tuna/cheese/noodle hotdish and whatever else we wanted and when we felt like it without any mumblings about meat and potatoes. I think I ate toast with peanut butter and jelly - exclusively - on Saturday. Maybe an Oreo or two - you know, to balance out the food pyramid.
I guess there was a bit of a weather event this weekend, a blizzard of sorts that didn’t do much but toss the air temperature into a deep freeze and crank to the coldest setting so far this season. I couldn’t figure out why I was so darn cold, sitting in the front room - the heat was set to 70F, the fireplace (electric) was cranking out some nice warmth, and I was buried under a crochet project (lots of yarn) yet I was still uncomfortable with chilled toes and numb-ish fingers. On top of that, I started to get something of a cold (Muffin was sniffy and coughy all weekend).
After finding my furry house slippers, an extra pair of socks and putting another t-shirt on under my sweatshirt, I happened to walk past the front door. It could just as well have been standing wide open. I found myself stuffing old towels into open spaces around the front door. You know, to prevent snowdrifts in the entryway.
And this temperature shows an improvement from a pre-dawn -9F (that's Negative Nine). Why do I live here? Right-right-The Beauty of All Four Seasons (or some such bullsh*t).