He has a funny face!
Flo-vember is a pile of sand in an upside-down hour glass. My time is up. Finished. Now, my only comfort is a husband, a lap full of cats and Christmas lights. My view spans a yard full of naked trees with crinkly patches of leaves attached to spindly branches like a balding man clinging to his last tuft of hair. Last summer's perennials look like dried-up, grizzly arms reaching up from a frigid grave. Snow clings to the recesses of tree-pits like a milk mustache. There's a few birds shivering somewhere - I think. On a brighter note, I might find some sand if I dig in the right place. Lake Harriet maybe? Ugh. At least I have my souvenirs.
Basically, it's horrible out there. Do I sound like a Minnesotan? No. I was meant to live in Florida.
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