Had this discussion about snow the other night while sitting on the rescue truck tail. Yes, that would be when I spent the tick tock of midnight with the rescue guys. One of these years, that's going to change. So about the snow, I live here for a reason. It's called The Lake and The Seasons. People who whine and complain about receiving snow in the winter are showing their inner, green sprouted garlic bulb. Move on. Plant somewhere else.
There's a lot of snow on the decks from today. I'm thinking this week I'll disconnect the Sea-Doo battery, and switch attention to Little Blue. A tenacious and trusty snowblower that desires only to have the spark plug removed, gas down the cylinder, and a few pulls each and every year.
The neighbor's homemade Irish Creme was a silky delight. That recipe, I do believe, will be the next request of these very salt of the earth people. But first, I must continue shedding the current contents of the fridge. It's pluffed with too much. You know, when the meat and vegetable drawers are full of beer bottles, it's time to keep the doors unlocked and the invites flowing.