Wednesday, January 14, 2009

like walking into knives

A sweet wait person named Ingrid brought me a glass of wine at Patrick's tonight. As we gabbed about the bitterly cold weather, she said it's like walking into knives, which I thought was very poetic and elegant. Then she said it freezes your boogers. Not so poetic and elegant but true.

Going swimming in this weather is a true test of the pioneer spirit. I grit my teeth and go out in it at 5 a.m. Swimming is nice because the pool is warm, there are plants and tables with umbrellas, and it smells like waffles. But when you get out of the pool and go back in the cold, it kicks your ass for the whole day.

I still haven't tried the Yaktrax, Charlie. Now that we have all the snow, it's less slippery. I hear the temperature is going up eventually and we should expect freezing rain so the opportunity will come back. I feel better for having them.

I was going to make chicken casserole for dinner but Regis sort of wrinkled his nose. I had to remind him that some women don't cook meals in the evening much less think about what their menfolk might have for a hot lunch the next day. I reminded him that we could go in the direction of frozen pizza and fast food if he would prefer. Harrumph.

We're having a little family party Sunday for the All-Pennsylvania-All-the-Time (where did this come from? is this an old radio joke?) party. The Steelers are playing somebody and the Eagles are playing somebody. I don't give a fig about either game but I figure it takes us closer to the end of the season. Really, I don't mind. Regis always seems to have some knowledge of the teams and players but I never see him watching any games. Is it beamed through the male DNA by alien ships? I think I'll get him a tin hat for protection.

For those of you who haven't met my dog-cousin, Pepsi, here he is wearing Bert's old bow tie. I've written about Pepsi before. He was saved from almost certain death by a couple of well-meaning old ladies who found him in a ditch. He was raised by a felon as part of a rehabilitation program and now resides in the loving home of Steve, Sherry, and Catie and commits the small social mistakes of humping legs, farting, and ripping socks off your feet while you're wearing them. Yes, that's Bert reincarnated. We're so happy he has Bert's bow tie. Isn't he cute? Please. If you are ever tempted to get a Jack Russell, call us first!

1 comment:

grandma said...

I would never get a Jack Russell dog. I saw too much of Bert's psycho behavior. When I came to visit he growled every time I tried to sleep in his bed. Nasty little thing that he was. George snuggles right up to my back and never twitches all night.