Super Bowl and Frocs

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. I know this because a new super bowl

fan Elaine told me. As you might have read before until my back injury a year or so ago, I didn't watch much football. I have always enjoyed playing football more than watching football. That goes for most of life, playing is better than watching. Except for rodeo, and maybe "running with the bulls". Watching rodeo and "running with the bulls" is better.

It's possible that Elaine and I won't watch the Super Bowl. It will depend on the weather, not at the Super Bowl, but here. If it is not windy or cold here at home, I will be "playing" outside. Elaine is not particularly impressed by either team's uniforms or shoes. Let's just say, "She doesn't have a uniform in this fight". I've got things to do outside if the weather cooperates. (It's cloudy and cold.) Good thing I bought a bag of cheddar and sour cream chips.

So far, this has been a particularly harsh winter. The wind has been blowing since October and we have snow on the ground here at 7000 feet. I bring this fact up for two reasons. First, I want want to discourage any flatlanders from thinking of reading these stories and deciding they would like to be my neighbor. Stay down there. Enjoy your road rage and traffic. Enjoy smoggy air. Enjoy sharing a hallway, driveway, parking lot, and condo garages, clean cars, and borrowing sugar from the house ten feet away. You won't like listening to the sound of large-caliber gunfire every Sunday morning. (It's happening now.) Ah, the sound of gunfire in the morning!

Second, next month Elaine and I will have lived here for twenty years. (Bret, if you are reading this, you've some responsibility here.) One week, after closing on this property we had a sixty-inch snowstorm. Did you catch that? Sixty inches! Two months after moving here, we "enjoyed" a twenty (+) inch snowstorm that knocked power out for twenty-seven hours ( I've written these stories for quite a few years so if you have heard this story before I apologize.) Elaine and I were melting snow on the woodstove for water and eating canned soup on the same stove. Here is why I am telling this story. In the twenty years of living here, that has never happened again. Oh sure. we have had snow and we have even had power outages, but never like that. In fact last winter we saw very little snow. This winter is different. We have had snow on the ground the entire winter, highly unusual. But this snow is different. Some of our land is dry without snow. The snow has blown into drifts. Deep drifts.

Here's the part flatlanders will not like on Super Bowl Sunday. I need to take my skid steer tractor and move the drifts of snow that are affecting the feeding of our livestock. I will get dressed in my skid steer uniform, which incidentally Elaine doesn't approve of. Oh, she is ok with the uniform. It's the shoes she has a problem with.

I will wear my favorite frocs (plastic shoes from Wally's). I have a pair that has no ventilation holes, perfect for snow and winter conditions. If one was to listen to Elaine, my frocs are far from perfect. I have had my frocs for years. They might be a little worn out. The tread is totally worn out. Admittedly, walking in snow and on ice can be exciting.

So, in order to make a short story long, I was feeding our llama from behind one of the snow drifts, wearing my frocs. Elaine was across the yard feeding the birds. One minute I was standing on the snow, the next minute I was lying in it. Elaine didn't see it happen, but she realized one minute I was there, gone the next. She might have been a little upset with me. She was. Thank God she blamed my frocs and not me. She threatened to destroy my frocs. I didn't argue, I picked myself up and quietly walked to the house. I thought I heard Elaine say something about cutting up my frocs. She calmed somewhat. I'm wearing my frocs as I type. I'll sneak them outside later today. A man's shoes are his castle.

Again, thanks for your yarn sales. I hope your team wins. God bless and never let your spouse pick your shoes.

Our crazy lives!

Monner