Putting out a fire with gasoline

It wasn't surprising to me to be taking both Thelma and Louise to the doctor on Monday morning. My Louise, actually my daughter, Michelle, had come from college with a bad cough that the school's health services nurse had made polite, but ineffectual efforts to stop (I suppose if she went to an Ivy League school, it would be different; such is life in the CT State University system. Kidding!). My wife, Sigrid, sometimes known as Thelma, had been taking care of me with my bronchitis, and of my daughter, and was pretty much an inevitable victim if it all went on long enough. It did, and she was.

The nice thing Monday, unlike any of the days since the snow had started, was that we had sun and blue sky. Not much in terms of warmer temperatures, but the sunlight helped. What would have helped a lot more would have been municipal snowplows(did your local paper do a story on how preps for winter were going in the previous week? Ours did. A photo and everything as a fellow strode between the snowplows and dump trucks filled with salt. Still haven't seen many of those truck out and about, have you?). One of my neighbors wondered, in light of our budget negotiations, in recent years if one of the school teachers would be driving the plows. I explained that, to my mind, the money went to the administrators who as, as we all know, are no longer capable of teaching or learning.

After Doctor's we went to the pharmacy to get their prescriptions filled and then home again, for me. Not for the two peripatetic women in my life--nothing of the sort. I think we are now shopping for presents for children unborn and friends not yet yet met or made. But we'll be ready by Thursday. Perhaps we'll still have a sniffle or two, but that'll be all.
-bill kenny