Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Won't talk about it . . .


No, I won't talk about the three inches of slush we just pushed off of the entire driveway. I won't discuss Puppy's Pop's return in the Saturn after getting to Canterbury on his way to East Hartford. I won't mention our muffin outing to Oneco on slippery, slushy miserable roads. I won't deign to think about the relentless wet snow that the weatherman says isn't coming down. Won't conjecture what 0 degree temps will do to this mess later today and night. I'll just drop the subject. There, that was easy.

Trip to the New London doctor's office was a pain as usual but all is so well that I don't have to go back for a year and a half. Woot! Only two more checkups to go in the next month and I'll be home free. Life has its good moments. After each appointment I celebrate. Yesterday we went to lunch at Java Jive. Since it should be warmer by the time I complete these appointments I'll be able to stop for my favorite Reese's Peanutbuttercup Blizzard in chocolate ice cream at Dairy Queen. It's a good thing there are no Dairy Queens close by. I could indulge every day; morning, noon and night and then have a post prandial Black Russian. What a delicious thought. I may have to make that operative. Of course I might have to go it alone as Puppy's Pop frowns on Blizzards of any sort. But I realize that I could enjoy these forays into gluttony on my own. So tempting.

Well, back to going over the tax forms before I venture out for some more slush removal.

Quote: Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, hoar winter's blooming child, delightful spring. ___Mrs. Barbauld

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