So yesterday was a little slick, a thin glaze that made the morning commute a little dicey. The Grey Goose handled beautifully through the red light as I narrowly avoided a cargo van turning left in front of me, as well as oncoming traffic.
After a “Holy Sh*t!”, we prayed for divine intervention and skated right through it!
Lawsey!
Meanwhile in the garden, we’re in full blown hibernation mode. And getting a little fluffy at that.
On the mean streets, the kids are Burning Down the House:
Pulled into the drive and heard breaking glass, turned to see flames shooting out the window. This building has been vacant and we’ve had trouble keeping the kids out.
I’ve known several boys that have burned down the house, barn, or set a field on fire. Accidentally. Oops! Grown men too.
In fact, I’ve suggested that we start start our own “Burning Man” festival. Food, family, and a controlled burn. We have a retired firefighter captain and trained health professionals in the family ready to assist.
This idea came to me after spending a summer growing my eyebrows out after a flame- out in my backyard.
Uncles and Dad have both been to the emergency room with burn injuries. Uncle got a lesson in the explosive qualities of gasoline, while burning a brush pile. Dad, injured on the job when a burning ember fell down his boot and fried the top of his foot.
One of the best parties of my youth, involved setting a sofa on fire. That’s when I realized the toxicity of vinyl furniture.
Good Times.
Later, me and my posse slipped out the back door when we spotted an old high school alumni turned undercover cop in the mix.
Good party ya’ll! See ya!
