Was this a traction test?
The dog is old enough to know better. SO, when he took advantage of an open door to tbe basement, and managed to get into the new paint on the stiar steps (coming and going), I had nothing to say. Well, nothing good, at least. Right now, his paws are carefully highlighted. Almost like fingerprints.
Outside, the weather has been playing whiteout, all afternoon. If we didn’t have one of the household out for a drive, I would care less. Or is it more? It doesn’t matter. The car is back, with groceries. Meanwhile, our industrious general contractor has finally headed for home. His explanation of the “it doesn’t really matter” attitude is that he has a truck, with four wheel drive. I don’t want to mention how that is the class of vehicle most often towed out of ditches, according to another friend.
I’ve been trading family notes with a possible cousin in Texas, and I’m starting to find his other links. None to me, so far. The record keeping in the late eighteenth century was either really good or non-existant. Nothing in the middle. And why did everyone name their children John, or Mary, or Joseph, or Jane?
Shoes are a wonderful invention. When I learned that someone in the Quebec City area had completed a half-marathon on a frozen lake, in bare feet, my only response (to the needed question) was why? Didn’t anyone tell the runner that you need something with better adherence than your toes? Apparently there was a world record involved, and I bet there won’t be any attempt to break said record any time soon.
