In like a . . . lion? . . . lamb?

I don’t know. It was perfectly clear on March 1st which was lamb-like, but it was 9 below. That’s not windy or stormy, but 9 below isn’t lamb-ish. I would say it’s more lion.

I’m sure I don’t know. I’ve never thought that adage really worked in Minnesota — like Groundhog’s Day. Trust me. We have six more weeks of winter whether there’s shadow or not, just bless their pea-pickin’ weather bug hearts in Punxsutawney, PA.

Beloved Audrey in Phoenix claims it was 90 degrees there this week. I cannot wrap my mind around this at all. At all. Not at all. I don’t get it. How can it be 90 in the beginning of March? I believe her because she seems to be a trustworthy soul, but I don’t get it.

Every morning when I go into my closet, I sigh. I look at my sweaters which at this time of year have taken a beating. I wrote to someone this morning that they are sad and pilly and there is something crusty at the bottom of each and every one no matter whether they are fresh from the laundry or not. What is this crust and where does it come from?

Weeeeeeell . . . this just has to be the downhill slope of winter. History proves it so. In another month or two . . . or so . . . I will leave the house without a coat. Until then, that purse I bought is yellow. I’m just going to hold it in front of my face whenever I go outside and pretend it’s summer sun.


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