Winter at my latitude blows its last. Nine below at the moment, and the wood burner is cold, loaded only with pale ash. I got behind hauling, and it is too full to burn well even if I hadn't decided last night, "Screw it. I don't feel like filling the wood box."

So I'm being comforted by dead dinosaur gas.  It's warm enough, but propane has no soul. Dinosaurs were Republicans?

If I hadn't other things to do, I could entertain myself nicely by sitting in front of the thermometer outside my north window and watching the red stuff inch up to something like 20 today and double that tomorrow,  probably never to touch zero again this wretched season. 

Not that there are any bragging rights connected to the winter in this part of the world. In fact, it has been rather benign -- just ass backwards.  December and January were balmy by our standards, setting us up for the weeks of damned awfulness  now ending.

When the rosy fingered dawn is well advanced I'll catch up on the fire pit chores, cheered by the certainty that there will be a large carry over of fuel for '15/'16 and that all the fires of March can be much smaller, reducing the ash disposal annoyances.

Welcome (Ms.) March

Vocabulary Lesson

Optimism: That trait leading a loophole-bound citizen to stuff his wallet with all the  Federal Reserve Cartoons his modest circumstances permit AND root around for the small, light, nylon bag AND reflect that the sack would comfortably hold an Artillery Luger,  an unissued USN-marked 1918 Model 1911 AND a shootable 4" Colt Python. Also, maybe, a signed first edition of No Second Place Winner.

Reality: That mindset based on personal history of coming home  too often from even the best of the big loopholes  with the wallet untouched except for one's share of the post-show beer tab at Adrian, Minnesota where (Edit: formerly) the girl behind the bar is (was) both cute and tolerant of old farts trying to be flirty.

Sioux Falls this weekend, and it's one of the loopies we all recommend, particularly for you guys who like cowboy guns.

I suppose I wrote all this because it suddenly occurred to me that life is pretty good.

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Update:  Reality, mostly.

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Technical addendum. Blogger's spell check hates "loopies" and offers "loo pies" as a suggested alternative. How gross.

Official Love Day Porn

Having failed again in my annual quest for the perfect Valentine greeting, I bundle up for a sure-love trip, the huge Sioux Falls loophole.

Why can't a country that can send  a man to the moon devise a Valentine  which combines (a) effectiveness and (b) non-commitment?

Oh well.

We do the news

From my friend John, via email:

From comments at The Bleat:

"When I was (briefly) at The AP in N'Awlins, the New York desk came back and came back and came back at the sportswriter prior to the Super Bowl. over and over. "what is the temperature and winds on the field?" finally got the copy accepted with "68 degrees, half-mile winds, variable." this is, of course, about the Superdome."

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I am of the opinion that that selfsame New York editor is also assigned to supervise all reports dealing with firearms.