This is what I was going to post this morning:
Arrrr, Shiver Me Timbers!
This ought to be declared National Talk Like a Freezing Pirate Day.
I'm beginning to worry about my main food group, oranges. (Oranges! They're what's for breakfast!) Frost is very, very bad for them. They get all desiccated inside, and become nothing but hard, dry pulp. I cannot start the day without an orange! A nice, soft, juicy orange! Almost all the oranges in the markets here come from the San Joaquin Valley. (Ages ago, they came from around Los Angeles and Orange and Riverside and San Bernardino Counties, but somebody decided to pave those places and build a bunch of Wal-Marts and Home Depots, and no room was left for orange groves.) Freeziness in the San Joaquin Valley is a very bad sign, especially this early in the season. The new crop of navel oranges is still on the trees. If they get zapped, I could end up eating orange dust the rest of the season. Drat the frost!
I've barely gone out at all tonight. There are no interesting clouds to watch (or to retain some small bit of what warmth the day managed to provide), but only the raw air and the raw moonlight, and stark shadows of bare trees. The cat and I huddle in the house, draped in blankets, watching the flickering light of
the firethe cathode ray tube. I'm persuaded that houses were a pretty good invention, and toasters and tea kettles almost as good. The cares nothing for the toaster and the tea kettle, but appears to be mighty pleased with the house. Smart kitty, but no taste in snacks or beverages.
Now, all I need is a bottle of rum, and I'll be able to forget for a while the plight of the oranges. Yo ho ho.
I might get around to an entry for this evening, and I might not. It's getting late. It's still cold.