Sonya-on-the-ridge apparently got much more snow than we did down here in town. In fact, it dumped so much wet, slushy snow that her father, snaking around in a tractor trying to pull her husband's truck up their driveway, almost slipped into the next world. That's a high price to pay for the beauty of the ridge, but at least Sonya seems to be strapping and muscular from shoveling, walking the dog, and whacking night creatures with a big flashlight (I just cannot let that last one go). She looks more fit every time I see her.
I, on the other hand, waited until I was in the comfort and privacy of my own house today to unbutton my jeans and let the winter happiness free (the winter happiness is my ever-growing gut, I'm afraid). I got some exercise by baking banana bread with two sticks of butter, which I will consume during the next two days. Things are not looking good for me; in fact, they're looking a bit Winnie-the-Poohish. Elevenses, here we come, and tut, tut, it feels time for a little something to quench the rumblies in the tumblies.
Friend Sal told me that I've been indoors so much lately that when I finally do emerge, everyone will be watching to see if I spot my shadow or disappear again. Sounds about right. Grassy Sam, Wazoo Farm's resident groundhog, is smarter than he looks. Right now he's curled up in a warm nest somewhere under our shed, dreaming of eating our spring garden.
Oh, looks like it's time to put the kids to bed, which means I must walk up the stairs. Don't. know. if. I. can. endure. that. much. exercise.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
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