Turning the page on January

 I have to go back to work tomorrow.  I've had a four day weekend, thanks to this snowstorm, which resulted in a four pound weight gain, thanks to this sweet tooth.  A pound a day, but who's counting.   I've stayed cooped up to the point of stir craziness. 

You know the movie Hope Floats?  You know the part where Birdee lays around for a few days depressed after her husband officially leaves her on national TV?  Her mama finally gives her loving motherly advice and says, "Go on.  Get outside.  Get the stink blown off of ya!"   That pretty much sums it up around here too. 

We did make it out yesterday.  Fresh air.  Here's our snowman.  I now have a new appreciation for ice sculpters.

I snapped this picture right after its mouth fell off but right before its nose did. 

The weather is still yuck.  I've never been to California, or I'd be dreaming of it on a winter's day.  47 days till Spring.

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J Dub's been working his magic in the kitchen lately. 

This is a puffed pancake or sometimes called a Dutch baby that we had for breakfast this morning.  Add a little syrup and wa-la!

This was last night's supper of ribeye steak, risotto, and veggies.  Yum-O!

Two things I could never brag on myself for: 

1.  cooking
2.  remembering song lyrics
3.  following directions
4.  singing
5.  making a bed with hospital corners
6.  coloring my hair
7.  drinking 8 glasses of water per day

I realize I said two, but I got on a roll. 

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February starts tomorrow.  The month of mush.  We are one month into the new year.  How are your resolutions holding up?

Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual. Yesterday, everybody smoked his last cigar, took his last drink, and swore his last oath. To-day, we are a pious and exemplary community. Thirty days from now, we shall have cast our reformation to the winds and gone to cutting our ancient short comings considerably shorter than ever. We shall also reflect pleasantly upon how we did the same old thing last year about this time. However, go in, community. New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls, and humbug resolutions, and we wish you to enjoy it with a looseness suited to the greatness of the occasion.

[reprinted in The Works of Mark Twain; Early Tales & Sketches, Vol. 1 1851-1864, (Univ. of California Press, 1979), p. 180.]
Territorial Enterprise, January 1, 1863


January, we bid you farewell.

And take your crappy weather with you.



Till February Folks,

Angel