This has been a really hectic week, and, yes, that’s totally an excuse for ditching you, dear Readers.

I feel like I should be sitting in a hot tub, drinking beer and hitting some pot while I write a recounting of this week.

Going into last weekend, weather prognosticators were using words like “snow,” “high wind,” “freezing cold,” “wind chill,” “drifting” and “below zero.” I was using words like “huh?” and “what the hell.” And I was scrambling to get the last-minute winter prep done.

Sunday was probably my crowning glory when it took me all day to build a wooden box. In my defense, it required using reclaimed creosote-treated lumber, figuring complex angles, compensating for layers and overlaps of different materials, and scalloping the edge with a protractor and a jigsaw to fit lumber and corrugated roofing butted up to corrugated siding. Still … All. Day. Oi.

And then there was going out at dark to help gut, drag and hang Niece the Shootist’s honkin’ big 5×6 buck that she bagged at dusk. Dang if that child didn’t do an awesome job of keeping her cool and pitching in. I was just disappointed that I didn’t get to use my horse to haul the thing out. Sure, it might’ve been a rodeo, but how does that detract from the fun? Besides, I was betting that she’d be awesome, too. Whatever. It was just me and the niece dragging 180 lbs of carcass through the brush. We’re stout. And useful. We had it covered.

Then the winter storm hit. There was blowing and rain until there was snow and drifting and vehicles sliding into the ditches and coming to rest against poles. Luckily, no one was hurt badly and none of it involved me. I had more winter prep to do because we weren’t as ready as we thought. And, of course, this work had to be done bundled into layers of warm and fluffy clothing. I looked like the love child of Carhartt Inc. and the Stay Puft Marshmallow man.

Random View: The temperature reading from last night.

There will be more of what you see in that picture, only more brrr-ish, this week — that is technically the end of autumn.

Then we had a family tragedy. So there was that.

I tried to make sticky buns for people who might want comfort food to munch on, but when the recipe calls for “cook & serve” pudding mix, you can’t substitute instant. Call me a liar and test my outcome if you must, but I’m telling you, the results are not the same. I’m not saying it’s unpalatable, I’m just saying you don’t want to share the results in public. You stop at the local bread shop to get a loaf of gourmet bread for the munching instead. I’m resourceful in a crisis.

And riddled throughout the week was the need to make an inordinate number of phone calls to strangers, and regular Readers know how I love me some interaction with people who don’t know how to deal with the social challenged. It’s hard enough for people who do know me to get through a conversation with me without saying, “huh?” and “what the hell.”

As if that wasn’t enough with the phone awkwardness, we received two inordinately out-of-left-field-type calls that, frankly, have the potential to be life-altering.

I know that’s cryptic, and I wouldn’t mention the calls like a tease without the full-frontal reveal, except I really wanted to say that it’s odd how two totally unrelated calls on separately monumental things just came in the same week, an already full week, making me say, “huh?” and “what the hell.” And they consumed more time and energy, created more angst. Like I didn’t have enough to keep me awake at night.

Life is so totally weird sometimes, it can make me look normal.

Now I just want to get on with the future, get this party started.

I say: Damn the autumn, full winter ahead at: pam(at)viewfromthenorth40.com

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