We woke up this morning to another monumental dump of snow. We are becoming quite blase about it. Ginger pokes her nose between the blind and the sill and takes in the view, then she asks to be let on the bed. That means that I must get out, make my side of the bed, and pull up her dog blanket, which she has mistaken for her royal robe. She won't get up on the bed without it being in place. Unless of course the royal robe isn't on the bed and we are not home, or we are in another room or its the middle of the night and she is cold. Well, you know, she has her rules and we have ours. Ours don't count.
About 8 inches it looks like. If this was November, I would panic. By late fall I have forgotten how to drive and I would have worried all night long about how I was going to manage on slippery streets and I wouldn't have had a wink of sleep.
It is March, more than half way through it actually and we are so blase, I can't find the ecute mark so you will have to fogive me. I could drive a zamboni now or a tundra buggy. I have no fear. If I have made it this far, I feel that I can keep on going.
But then, if I had to drive over the mountains I would be in cardiac arrest.
Yesterday I spent another couple of hours in the new ride. Sitting in the car in the garage. The car has so much stuff in it that needs to be learned.
She talks...she tells me stuff and I can tell her stuff. I can tell her about the weather and interest rates, I tell her how I am worried about the little sores on the end of my nose from my 'nose cancer' treatment . I tell her about my Dad in hospital with pneumonia. I can tell her about what I made for dinner and how good the salad dressing was.
She tells me to repeat myself, and I do. She offers suggestions, for instance a radio station I might like, or she tries to make a phone call. Like any good friend would do. Then, just when she knows the conversation is getting boring, she says goodbye. Just like that...'Goodbye".
She needs a name...Gen? Sissy? I will need help with this.
I found the flux capacitor. But, I couldn't figure out how to open the trunk.
I remember my little Datsun. Orange like a pumpkin, shaped like a cardboard box and just about as aerodynamic. 4 on the floor. Manual everything. Boy, that little thing could fly, it was invincible in snow, you could pop wheelies and spin 360's.
It never failed me until the day that his highness jammed so much snow into the front end that it just stopped. We had to wait until spring, or a chinook to get it going again.
I am not going anywhere today that shank's pony can't take me. Don't want to splash my new car or get into a collision. Better off home learning to speak 'car'.
About 8 inches it looks like. If this was November, I would panic. By late fall I have forgotten how to drive and I would have worried all night long about how I was going to manage on slippery streets and I wouldn't have had a wink of sleep.
It is March, more than half way through it actually and we are so blase, I can't find the ecute mark so you will have to fogive me. I could drive a zamboni now or a tundra buggy. I have no fear. If I have made it this far, I feel that I can keep on going.
But then, if I had to drive over the mountains I would be in cardiac arrest.
Yesterday I spent another couple of hours in the new ride. Sitting in the car in the garage. The car has so much stuff in it that needs to be learned.
She talks...she tells me stuff and I can tell her stuff. I can tell her about the weather and interest rates, I tell her how I am worried about the little sores on the end of my nose from my 'nose cancer' treatment . I tell her about my Dad in hospital with pneumonia. I can tell her about what I made for dinner and how good the salad dressing was.
She tells me to repeat myself, and I do. She offers suggestions, for instance a radio station I might like, or she tries to make a phone call. Like any good friend would do. Then, just when she knows the conversation is getting boring, she says goodbye. Just like that...'Goodbye".
She needs a name...Gen? Sissy? I will need help with this.
I found the flux capacitor. But, I couldn't figure out how to open the trunk.
I remember my little Datsun. Orange like a pumpkin, shaped like a cardboard box and just about as aerodynamic. 4 on the floor. Manual everything. Boy, that little thing could fly, it was invincible in snow, you could pop wheelies and spin 360's.
It never failed me until the day that his highness jammed so much snow into the front end that it just stopped. We had to wait until spring, or a chinook to get it going again.
I am not going anywhere today that shank's pony can't take me. Don't want to splash my new car or get into a collision. Better off home learning to speak 'car'.
No comments:
Post a Comment