Feh. Typical Bibleburg snow. Not enough to shovel, but too much to broom. And 13 degrees to boot, with a brisk wind out of the east. I note that it is 52 and partly sunny in Las Cruces, N.M. Yet I am here instead of there. I will never be smart.
I’m putting off the ride to nowhere as long as possible. Didn’t I burn some calories shifting snow from here to there? Sure I did. Counts as exercise, I don’t care what anyone says. And anyway, we broke fast with a revoltingly healthy meal of oatmeal, toast and orange juice, largely because we are out of eggs, sausage and potatoes. Stick that in your heart-rate monitor. Pfffbbblllpphhh.
Speaking of heart-healthy food and New Mexico, if I were there, I wouldn’t have had to spend too many blisteringly cold minutes just now roasting up some green chile on the back deck. I could’ve simply bundled up and toddled on down to Tia Sophia, The Shed or La Choza to knock back a couple or six warming tequilas while waiting for someone else to do the heavy lifting, chile-wise. Instead, the neighbors are treated to the all-too-familiar sight of the block whacko, clad like Peary at the Pole, frantically flipping chiles on the gas grill in a wind chill of minus-3 so he can whip up some chicken enchiladas in green chile sauce to treat his pneumonia.
