The post right below this one – that’s what I’m talking about. My buddies here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse made me. They gave me that black-eyed stare. Rose, of course, looked at me as if to say, “Surely, she hasn’t lost her big HOO out of HOOSIER. Surely, she won’t let us down.”

So out I went and I wore a coat and a headband and gloves and moccasins without socks. I opened the front door to start the engine . . . and Shane jumped in. I sighed, contemplating a trip to the fairgrounds. Then I opened the truck and can you say “very, very lucky”? Not only were the cans not frozen, they were only at the slush stage; a little warming and all will be well.

But then I had to contend with Shane. To fairground or not? I would have to clear the outside of the car off and he would want me to get out and throw his Wubba . . . but I had no socks on. So I told Shane he could go later. Now, this is where I am ashamed. You know that part about going out with only moccasins? My father would have been quietly disgusted with me; I knew that and I did it anyway. BUT when the dog asked to go to the fairgrounds, I told him I had no socks. Please don’t tell Rose about this. I will carry my personal guilt all day long as it is. I’m sorry, Daddy, you are right; and I’m sorry Shane.

I already goofed up this morning with the gloves. I pulled one on my left hand and waited until I had started the car to put the other on the right. I thought, “OH, RATS, I’VE GOT TWO LEFTS.”  No, that wasn’t it; I had put the right glove on my left hand.

Normally, that’s not so bad at all for Indiana and February and winter, but this year has been mild. So instead of being happy that it’s above zero and savoring the relative warmth, I am contemplating taking a look in my truck at a couple of 12 packs of sodas. Now, usually in winter I do not keep soda in my trunk, but this year has made me soft. My regular course of action would have been to bring it into the back vestibule, put it against the wall shared with the kitchen and cover it with a tarp. Only rarely would I look at the weather prediction and bring it inside; a couple of times I forgot and we had a few  exciting “booms” out there.

If I am very, very lucky, the cans will just be frozen inside; very lucky would be cans frozen with bottoms bulging. Okay, there is no just lucky; I guess I consider myself sort of lucky in this situation if exploded cans are contained within the poofed-out carton. At the worst, I can scoop out the totally frozen slush. But you have to that while you are standing in the cold: it doesn’t work when it warms up. That sounds obvious, but it is easy to think “warm up a little bit” and, no, you don’t want to think that because if you don’t have the gumption to freeze your butt at the moment, you won’t find yourself going out later.

So, I am putting on warm pants and maybe even a coat and going out to assess the situation. Well, maybe in just a little bit. Soon. Yes. . . definitely soon.