Chilllin'

I'm sitting in the big blue chair in the living room (redundant, I know; we only have one big blue chair), listening to the mellow sounds of an Australian guitarist, sipping on some cold flavored water, and thinking about snow. Not much at all where I am, but north of here, about five hours or so, tons of it -- five feet in some places, with two or three feet more. "Where do you put that much snow?" my wife asked, and I said "Canada, of course -- they have so much of it, they've got to be expert at getting rid of it." And indeed they are. I think it was in Montreal where they tried out a gadget that I would have thought of as a kid, and as an adult scoffed at -- a truck that sucked in the snow, heated it, and let the resulting water go down the nearest storm drain. How effective it was, I don't know, but its creative, you have to admit. When I lived in South Dakota, where to put the snow wasn't too much problem, as a rule; they had miles of empty prairies. But in towns and cities -- yes, that's a problem.

I read somewhere recently of a person who was bemused to receive an invitation to some kind of bird - watching event -- A Superb Owl party. Took the muttered advice of a friend for him to get what it actually was.

I 'baked' a cake tonight. Actually, the baking was the only part that was real -- as for the rest, I did it with a mix. I told my wife that I always feeling like I'm cheating when I use one, even though the first time (I've only done it twice) I turned to her and said in amazement 'So this is why people use mixes!' It really is fast and convenient. I'm not a particularly good cake baker -- about on the same level as my bread skills, maybe a little less. I think that level of skill is why I'd scorn using a bread machine -- its not that I wouldn't like using it (once we figured out where to store the damn thing) -- its that I need the practice in making bread that comes with doing it, not just dumping the ingredients in a machine and pressing Go. (I'm sure there's more to it than that, but my impression is, not a lot more.) I like messing around with the dough. But this cake was for my daughter's birthday party -- she has some kind of plan where the four kids she's inviting over will have a decorating contest, each team doing whatever frosting they want, and then the winner gets to eat the cupcakes (set aside from the batch I made the other night) that are frosted by the loser. After which, I take the whole shebang off to an ice skating rink (like we need an opportunity to get cold) for the afternoon. I've been advised that ice skating rinks are cold, and that I should dress appropriately.

I've calmed down a little bit since yesterday about the ferocious amount of money I'm about to spend on my mouth. My wife is remarkably casual about it. We have the money, she keeps reminding me; we saved it just so we could have it for times like this; besides, we'll get some back when we itemize our taxes next year. All of which is true. But I think I'll need some tranks when I write that check.