I was trying to catch up on the phone with my dad this weekend, when he was called away to deliver a truckload of urgently needed balaclavas. While I'm sure he'd be thrilled if you thought him some
Q-like character, supplying the special forces or other masked goodies, it was only the guys at the oil refinery with cold faces.
I hope he kept one for himself. The parents are away for a shopping trip in New England. They drove down through a snowstorm, and are driving back through one too. They must be looking for the off-off-off-the-road season rates.
He could send me one, too. The stinging pellets started on my way home this evening. I'm still a bit pockmarked!