Cold days, warm house.

I am awful when it comes to reading the local weather reports.  It's either the grasshopper in me or my ADD.  I'm not sure which, but good for me that my husband does and knows that it's time to batten the hatches or pull the plants in.  I didn't have any idea that this arctic blast would begin blowing in this morning around 5:30 when I was lying on the couch nursing my first cup of coffee.  (For the record, I don't think it was supposed to arrive so early...) My first clue?  Mikey's Ficus plant was blew over, scratching the window screen, causing me to jump off the couch wondering what the heck was in my back yard.  I quickly determined that it was the wind and the plant and for some ridiculous reason I went out and tried to stand it back up.  I don't know why I bothered.  The plant is cumbersome, awkward and taller than I am so I gave up, poured myself a second cup of coffee, got back under the blanket as Bubba climbed on my stomach.  Then I heard the rain.  I knew that if I didn't run out and fetch the paper, it would be soaked.  I got up off the couch, ran out, grabbed the paper and got just wet enough that I had to dry off my glasses.

Not my favorite way to begin the day but as with most days, it has improved.  Both kids made it off this morning without getting rained on (at least here), Don and I had a dry newspaper (Nope, I didn't read the weather forecast.) and we had more coffee.  Mid-morning we bundled up and headed out for cat food and half and half; two things that we shouldn't be without if it gets so cold that we don't want to leave the house.

As it nears dusk, the chill has arrived with the thermometer on the driveway showing 34 degrees.  Brrr Davis.  The aroma of homemade chili has wafted my way... you don't have to tell me twice that it's time for dinner.

I'll be thinking warm thoughts but (secretly) hoping for a bit of snow.