It's pothole season in Minnesota. Thirty-five degrees during the day and single digits at night: the Toyota tires bark their displeasure across the rough-and-tumble pavement that is the metro area. I can endure the teasing for only so long; will spring time ever arrive?
Greetings, my fellow readers. Apologies for falling off the page; January and February have proven interesting months. With the encouragement of fellow bloggers and a semi-regular schedule on the horizon, I promise to greet ye via computer screen more habitually.
I fought (and won) the battle against my first cold last month. Mom agrees with me that the virus was tougher for her and Dad to watch than it was for me to actually fight. After a week of sniffling and sneezing, I acquired the cough similar to that of Joe Camel and Mr. Marlboro. Three cheers for humidifiers and Children's Tylenol.
In other news, Valentine's day passed with the flurry of love-struck cupids. (Thanks for the valentines, Grandma and cousins!) Mom and Dad celebrated the Hallmark holiday with a bottle of wine from the basement tavern and a few wicked games of cribbage. They're cute.
My latest affinity includes Vanna White and the Wheel of Fortune. While always especially pleased with the cleverness of the Before and After puzzles, I find myself more curious about the lifestyle that said Vanna and host Pat must lead. After 30+ years hosting the same show, what does one do with the time and money that remain after the mere 6 hours per week it must take to record the show? The mind reels at the possibilities. Nonetheless, I am fascinated by the glowing letters, the ageless smiles, and the Sony card holders, and the seemingly countless trips to resorts, spas and beaches. I'll buy a vowel, if you please.
Hope this scribbled meandering finds you well.
Until next time,
Ken
