This afternoon I was in my nook at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse with the fire going in the little firestove when Summer came out and plopped down beside me; and because she had been watching Ice Cold Killers & other murder shows on the Investigative Channel in the living room,  I told her to go ahead and turn the TV on out here. She said, “Good. Really Bad Men is on next. This little TV hadn’t been on in ages, but, hey, for a murder and violence marathon continuing over from New Year’s Day, why not?

So we worked out way through about three hours of gruesome crimes. At one point she left for a short bit during which a looooong commercial/solicitation for the SPCA came on. It was about Betty, a dog who was hit by a car and not taken to a vet and still tried to nurse her two pups as she lay dying. It covered officers finding Betty, taking her to the hospital, discovering she had a broken vertebra, as well as broken legs and was dehydrated. It went on and on and ended with a guy saying he hoped Betty made it. Then came the appeal for viewers’ support. At the end, Summer returned to find me almost a basket case and didn’t really understand why.

Then, further into our viewing pleasure – and believe me, after watching Betty’s story, murder was not bad –  the channel started to repeat it and I jumped up and said I was outta here. I came back to find Summer about in tears, watching through her fingers and then giving Shane big hugs. About this time the murder shows were winding down or we were getting tired of them and Summer’s mother came out and the two of them got me to watch What About Bob? out here. Three of us lined up on the sofa. I suggested maybe the BIG TV in the big room would be more comfortable for them but somehow that idea didn’t carry the day.

So, we put in the DVD and it starts playing in black and white with no sound. Summer and I looked at each other and thought maybe we didn’t remember the film starting that way and then going to color. After a while, we figured out it had never done that and something must be awry with the connection. I held Summer’s plate of popcorn chicken while she fiddled with the cords and absentmindedly threw Shane a piece which bounced off his head. The connection-fix became lengthy and Shane implored me for more bites and pretty soon it was half gone.

Finally, we got the movie going and Summer discovered her chicken had decreased and her mother had fallen asleep (probably medicine for a broken shoulder), but we kept on watching – a grandma, a Summer, Shane with his constant attempts to get us to throw a Wubba and a sleeping body. The latter didn’t bother us too much since we’d watched all the murder stuff; we just leaned her over the end of the sofa.

Now, at the very end of the movie, Summer let Shane out and pushed the door closed, her mother woke up and asked, “I slept through the whole movie?” and we eventually  headed into the kitchen. Then I thought, “SHANE!” and opened the door. He came in and Summer’s mother exclaimed about his cold fur. Summer apologized to him  and then stood up and I looked at her and said, “Betty.” It took her a moment and then she collapsed to her knees and  sprawled on the floor, moaning.

It was a Bambi moment.

Got to go. Shane wants out again.

I do not have a cold but I have COLD right outside the door and the coat rack is full here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. It is 11 degrees, but since I am a Northern Indiana girl I did not realize this when I stepped into the vestibule – without my jeans on. Yes, in the dark of the early morning I grabbed a diet cola wearing only a long shirt and my underpants. (Underpants, not panties – like I said, because not only am I a Northern Indiana girl, I am a rural Northern Indiana girl.)

Anyway, grabbing the drink and then standing there assessing the supply of soda, water and sparkling grape juice, I did think that there was a bite in the air.  Sitting here with those bare legs under a blanket, I am feeling the tingle that warmth brings to cold and so I looked and saw the “11”.  For some folks, I suppose that would be and “!!”.  Of course, we have been much colder up here between Lake Michigan and Lake Erie, but this is the first time this season it has been more than nippy.

We have had some days though with rain in the 30’s and a strong wind that were just nasty as far as outdoor comfort is concerned. The cold in the Cincinnati/Ohio River Valley was worse, I think – a wet cold that crawled up the cuffs of sleeves as if they were wicks. Dry cold is like dry heat – just plain better.

I didn’t look to see what the high is going to be; I’ll have to because my “guess-o-meter” has not yet been calibrated for this winter.  I’ll need to be ready to judge when the soda needs a sleeping bag thrown over it or actually brought into the main house. As for this morning, the diet cola wasn’t even slushy. I am not really missing the diesel, though, as cold sets in  – watching the glow light wasn’t that festive . . . and then there was the time I backed out of the garage with the block heater still plugged in. That was not cool.