The January thaw is here. It began yesterday and will persist until this evening's  dinner hour,  topping out at 33 torrid degrees in mid-afternoon, then yielding to the next Canadian import. Tuesday and Wednesday night will be  somewhere in minus-six range. Around here the rustics abbreviate that as OFAGDSF. That is, "Oh fooey, another gol-danged scrotal  freezer."

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I have an inconsistent philosophy about weather moaners. When others over-gripe about a few little feet of snow and a bracing Alberta breeze,  I'm often prone to huff that they should shut up or move to Arkansas. When I do it it I am merely exercising my First Amendment right to bitch. Use it or lose it.

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The firewood stash is much diminished  but more than adequate for remaining season.  It is no longer a neat stack, and I've used a little more than I planned, probably because some of the ash wasn't as dry as I thought. Still, I should carry over a couple of months' supply to the  winter of  '11 and '12. This is known as a budget surplus, and I usually have one, confirming my long-held belief that I am morally superior to those in or seeking public office.

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Being a somewhat weather-driven man, I naturally read the  Washington Post reports of the end of the world yesterday.  That led to a mischievous Bing search for the Capitol's fool-proof plan for evacuation in response to nuclear attack.  If you need a giggle as badly as I did, do the same.

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This is the sort of thing you get from a fellow who feels compelled to write something but who has absolutely nothing to say. Please love me anyway.
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