redux
Last snowfall (way back in ought-nine) was the worst in living memory. And now this.
Dire warning came days ago about the impending storm but everybody waited till yesterday to make a run on the markets. Forewarned and wary, we already had brine and gin aplenty. We got roasted last night as the flurries began.
Woke this morning as the power went out. We lay in bed listening to the furnace spin down, feeling the heat seeping out through the walls. On the good side, I now have an estimate on how fast our house bleeds heat - around 1.5 degrees per hour, roughly the same as a dead human body.
We were back in the 18th century for a bit there but the power came back on just as I was fixing to make toast over the fire. I've done this time and again in the field, and it always tastes like crap. But we're better off than these guys, grazing the front yard not 3 days ago. I wonder what they're doing now that the snow is well up their withers. Might make them easier to harvest should the power go off again, and I do have my bows unpacked. These guys don't seem overly wary though - I'm betting I could take one out from the deck with a coffee mug, just like Daniel 'cup-chuckin'' Boone.
No way I'm shoveling this shit, at least not till it stops coming down. Then I'll call my friendly neighbor who has a snow plow attachment for his tractor. I'm sure everyone gave him crap for buying such a thing in Virginia but now his time has come.
Quoth the Bood: "Next time I say 'Let's move to Africa', lets ACTUALLY MOVE TO AFRICA."
Right she is: the weather in Namibia just now is 85 and dry, as it was almost exactly a year ago when we played 'whack the omarunga nut into another country', aka Angolan Baseball.
UPDATE: it came to me today in a dream, my next project: sweat lodge. No kidding, I'm already scoping out unguarded saplings on my neighbor's property.
Dire warning came days ago about the impending storm but everybody waited till yesterday to make a run on the markets. Forewarned and wary, we already had brine and gin aplenty. We got roasted last night as the flurries began.
Woke this morning as the power went out. We lay in bed listening to the furnace spin down, feeling the heat seeping out through the walls. On the good side, I now have an estimate on how fast our house bleeds heat - around 1.5 degrees per hour, roughly the same as a dead human body.
We were back in the 18th century for a bit there but the power came back on just as I was fixing to make toast over the fire. I've done this time and again in the field, and it always tastes like crap. But we're better off than these guys, grazing the front yard not 3 days ago. I wonder what they're doing now that the snow is well up their withers. Might make them easier to harvest should the power go off again, and I do have my bows unpacked. These guys don't seem overly wary though - I'm betting I could take one out from the deck with a coffee mug, just like Daniel 'cup-chuckin'' Boone.
No way I'm shoveling this shit, at least not till it stops coming down. Then I'll call my friendly neighbor who has a snow plow attachment for his tractor. I'm sure everyone gave him crap for buying such a thing in Virginia but now his time has come.
Quoth the Bood: "Next time I say 'Let's move to Africa', lets ACTUALLY MOVE TO AFRICA."
Right she is: the weather in Namibia just now is 85 and dry, as it was almost exactly a year ago when we played 'whack the omarunga nut into another country', aka Angolan Baseball.
UPDATE: it came to me today in a dream, my next project: sweat lodge. No kidding, I'm already scoping out unguarded saplings on my neighbor's property.