But not really. It’s funny how cold 30-ish feels when regular frosts hit in the fall. It’s actually late this year. But here I am, bedowned, bebuffed, bemuffed, and, I must say, impressively bebrowed, before heading out for the morning renewal of what is now a pretty long-running play. After something over five years, Paul and I still hit the road for three miles just about every morning at 7:30, still looking for dogs to get silly with, still envying the slender ladies who just glide on by, and still managing at least one good laugh almost every day. Which, in 2012, has been no small blessing. More whining later, no doubt. Right now, gotta get my boots on.
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