But my coffee is warm, my socks warmer, and I'm sitting here looking over some of your posts from last week, with images of some dress I stared at way too long on Facebook last night playing somewhere in the periphery of my consciousness. Anyone else?
My lovely next door neighbor makes a hot fudge sauce similar to this and it is fabulous. You should try it:
While I was languishing under the weight of cold this week, I also wrote this poem.
Can you languish under the cold? I feel like languishing is something you do in the heat. But it seemed to fit.
Our pastor is from Southern California and he made the comment that one of the interesting things about moving to the Midwest was how much people talk about the weather. I guess they don't do that where he is from. "So, it's 75 again?" "Yep."
Obviously, I am not from California. Hence this post, and my incessant poetry and writings about the snow and ice and sunshine.
How about I stop talking and we party again?
How it works: