Caress my palate with your creamy gift;
My heart rejoices and my spirits lift;
You are my light, my dark,
My fat or fit;
Supping on heaven’s milk,
You are my love – my chocolate.
Do not truffle with my emotions.
Copyright (c) 2009 Barbara E. Nelson
Frosty inside and out
It was cold today and yesterday. Bone chillingly cold. Penguins are putting on overcoats. Hell hath frozen over, under and around. Colder than a witch’s … It’s really cold. We’re at the tail end of the “polar vortex,” as it’s being called. Frankly, I think someone made up that term. Is it really something that one would find in a meteorology text book? I don’t know, but I suppose if one has an almost unprecedented weather event, there may be a need to invent some new terminology in order to deal with it. “Polar Vortex.” It’s as good as any name I could come up with. Are we down in the “Subarctic Basement?” Are we trying to avoid “Molecular Freezation?” Is this the coming of the Four Snowmen of the “Frostpocalyse?” However you want to categorize it, I just know that it was darned frigid outside yesterday at 18 below, with a wind chill in the -40s. Today was better, but when 2 degrees counts as a heat wave, you know that Mother Nature still has her icy fingers running up and down your spine. As we dig our way through this snowbank of negative numbers, I’ve had various thoughts running through my head (I keep them running in order to keep my brain warm. Being frozen on one thought for a long time is never a good idea.). Number one: For the first time, I’m glad that we don’t have a pet any more. We had to put our sweet 17 year old dog down in November of 2012.
Daisy at 17
I still miss her, but I’m thankful that we don’t have to let her go out in this kind of weather. I’m grateful for that. Her later years were full of health issues, mainly with her legs. While she loved to play in the snow and eat snowballs when she was younger, the snow had become a trial for her in later years. This cold spell would have been too much for my furry sweetheart. Plus, opening the back door at night to let her out in this frost jamboree gives me chills. (I think the door might be frozen shut, but it will thaw come springtime.) So, for once, I’m happy without a pet, for her sake. The second thing I was thinking about is that I need to change this blog since Christmas Sock Season is over. The title no longer fits and I want to expand the blog to other topics. I just have to learn how. I have a friend who will teach me, so one of these days, there will be some changes. For now, it will remain the same. And my third thought was … it’s cold outside!! How can a person think about anything else when it’s so cold outside?!? Bring on the warm blanket and some hot chocolate! Hold the marshmallows.
Water buffalo. Two. Mine, all mine. Why? Because they were Christmas gifts.
Each month, I put out the newsletter for my church. This is my eighth year as a volunteer. Every Christmas, my thoughtful pastors give us a small gift bag with chocolates and a thank you note. I think the note said something or other about giving two water buffalo. It’s a lovely gesture, but I’m still waiting for the pigs they promised a couple of years ago. So now I have two water buffalo roaming around in my back yard, which if you’ve seen my back yard, you will know is the size of a rather large postage stamp. Or at least, I WILL have two water buffalo roaming around in my back yard. They haven’t been delivered yet either. From what I understand, I have to share them with the rest of the church staff. I haven’t been told what the schedule is yet, so I don’t know if they’re going to be coming to my house for a week or a month at a time. These things should be taken care of in advance when one is giving a present like this, don’t you think? Really. What were my pastors thinking? I must admit that it must be the thought that counts here. I just can’t understand why they think the staff of a mid-Western church needs to share two water buffalo though. I’ve never seen any inclination of the staff to want to herd things. Shepherding the congregation is another matter altogether. Water buffalo? They can’t be used for baptisms. Wrong kind of water, so even around the church, they’re kind of useless. They can’t even be used to pick up parishioners from their homes on Sunday mornings. Face it, in the world of animals as autos, water buffalo are sturdy convertibles, but our winters are much too cold for open canopy water buffalo taxis. Around my house? Like I said, my yard is small. Even plowing up a garden plot wouldn’t take very long. And if I tried to have a garden, the water buffalo would stomp all over it when I let them outside to do their “business.” Really. What good are two water buffalo to me, Mrs. Suburban Mid-West Woman? I’m going to have to talk to the rest of the staff, but maybe we can give the water buffalo to Heifer International so that they can help two families sustain themselves. The shipping costs might be exorbitant, but I’ll feel better knowing that Sally and Juan Pablo (I’ve gotten attached) are being put to good use instead of trampling my garden or being played on like a jungle gym in the church nursery. I’ll miss them, but they belong with other people who need them more than I do. I think the church secretary will agree too. Sally never got the hang of answering the phones and Juan Pablo tried to photocopy his butt. Hello, repairman. Good bye, Juan Pablo and Sally. It’s for the best. I wish them well. I hope that for next Christmas, the pastors just donate money to Heifer International in our names. Well, I’m off to buy some buffalo kibble. Anyone know a good wholesaler? I’m going to need a lot. I just hope the pigs don’t finally come too. I’m not sure there’s room.