A hazy February day. A dozy day for Ed (I am counting the number of times Ed dozed off on the couch today and I've had to switch to the other hand to continue my tally). A cold day once again.
We have four more days of Arctic air before us (and four more nights, where the readings fall below what are already ridiculously low temperatures). Everything outside is solidly frozen that it's hard to imagine a melting of the snow cover anytime soon.
Pancake, the new feral cat who hides out under the writer's shed, is showing up every day now for her feeding and since the band of brothers and sisters is choosing to avoid being out in the cold, it's easy for me to slip her a heaping bowl of food while they're not watching. Other than her stealthy black and white presence, everything outside is very still. I have to think any animal would be cowering and covering from the relentless blast of frigid air. Search for food, then hide.
(Our own morning food...)
In the late afternoon, I nudge Ed a little and ask if he wants to go out for a quick ski run with me.
Too sleepy -- is the rather predictable reply. I put on my ski shoes and leave, determined to not give in to the cold and the clouds and the cold and the cold.
The car will not start. Dead battery.
We can't hook up the cables to Ed's car because Ed hasn't used his car since, oh sometime in 2020. The doors are frozen shut and I doubt the battery is in any better shape than mine. He brings out the extension cord and we hook up a charger to the very dead battery and leave it do its work.
As he and I walk back to the farmhouse, Ed asks -- should we get you a new battery?
No, I tell him. I'm really truly getting another car.
Big sigh on his part.
Big uncertainty on my part.
Big super deep freeze tonight and tomorrow night and the night after.
Small step count on my Fitbit today. Ah well...
For a cold night you need warm food. I cook up a cauliflower chicken chowder. Like a clam chowder, only with chicken. Puree some of the cauliflower and potatoes and broth and you have a thickened, rib sticking soup.
Later, much later we watch a Netflix movie. A war story about a heroic escape of a resistance fighter in Norway during the Second World War. If you're feeling bummed out about our polar vortex, I recommend you give it a try: The Twelfth Man. You will never complain about the polar vortex again.
