Okay, so it's officially butt dog cold. I have this smart alek (how the heck do you spell that?) profesor from up north who insists that this is not cold. Oh yeah? I'm sure we could put our heads together to come up with some tests which would elicit a quick confession that he's WRONGO BONGO. yankees...
anyway, cold weather means dead ants in the swaney yard (don and i have a competition to see who can hold out the longest without turning the heat on in the house so we can save money. He was wearing a parka while watching that Ed show, and I have a heating pad wrapped around my feet while I'm writing a paper. we're both fairly stubborn. if one sunday we don't show up at church, i suggest you send a posse out here armed with heat lamps and fire to thaw us out). and cold weather and dead ants in the swaney yard means HITCHCOCK!!! SO. I can see it now...hot cocoa, popcorn, a million quilts and mittens-- how fun does that sound????
so let's do it-- all who are in town, let's really make it happen this time. and the next night, we can all go to kevin's, because I am fairly certain that a cranium blowout involves being in a heated apartment.