Farmer H and the #1 son have gone to a Blues game. I don't know what they see in hockey. I can't even see the puck. But I can see a squirrel's nest if it's really a bald eagle! Today is Farmer H's birthday. #1's was last Monday. So they treated themselves to a game.
It's been a busy day, what with laundry and cake baking and Chex Mix making and present wrapping and The Pony's band concert listening and dish washing and meal preparing. I can hardly wait until Monday to go back to work and rest.
I'm ready to tar and feather Dave Murray, Channel 2 Chief Meteorologist, for his zero-percent accurate December forecast. He cost me two dollars in the First Snow Day Pool. And he promised three (THREE) winter storms before Christmas, and even told the schools to be ready. PLUS, ol' Dave promised a white Christmas. Fie on Dave Murray! He's not worth the eye boogies that form as my peepers glaze over while watching him on the 10:00 news. Ptooey! I spit on his as-yet-undug grave. If my job performance was as inaccurate as his, I would be given the old heave-ho!
Psst! Davey! If you can promise me a rash of January-February storms, perhaps one every ten days or so, all will be forgiven. We can commence sweet-talking again.