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As the temperature plummets tonight, I was forced to run outside with an armload of big brown bathtowels and wrap our small young trees, to prevent them from freezing in the upcoming and continuing arctic blast that has taken over our country, including South Louisiana. Once swaddled in various shades of brown terrycloth and clothes-pinned into place, the trees took on the look of diminutive Franciscan priests standing, hooded, in the dark yard, eerily lit by the streetlight. Slightly bent over from the weight of the towels, the 'monks' silently stand their ground, prepared to face the frigid night ahead of them.
Like you, most likely, all the Christmas decorations are put away for another year. As I'm puttering around trying to tie up loose ends around the house, I'm still giggling at things that Cappy said while he was home.
We have to apologize to some of our friends, who usually receive our Christmas cards. This year with the computer being down, I resorted to the old 4" by 6" cards, with everyone's names written on them. I left them on top of the computer desk where I had been working on addressing the envelopes, and I guess, went out shopping, leaving the dawgs in charge of the house. Well, somebody, who loves to make mischief, hopped up into the chair, got ahold of some of the cards and shredded them to tiny bits. AND I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS JUST WHO THAT SOMEBODY IS. The same brat who would take off joy-riding in his 'Dad's' Jeep if he could. 