By popular demand (oh! twist my arm!), I'm posting a photo of the latest addition to my ever growing boot collection. I'm always a little partial to my newest pair, but, I have to say, it is taking a mighty long time for the shine to wear off of these (it's showing no signs of waning even now). I still can't believe my luck to have found them by the side of the road.
My house guest, Keena, and I managed to ride out the oft predicted Winter Storm that area meteorologists were all no doubt mightily relieved to finally welcome. For TWO WHOLE HOURS yesterday afternoon flakes fell from the sky while West Kentuckians frantically (I'm guessing) dutifully mixed, cooked and ate their french toast.
Keena and I bravely fought the elements together enjoying having shouted exchanges like these:
WHERE ARE YOU GOING....OUTSIDE?!
(Obviously about to take her dog out for a potty break.)
YES! OUTSIDE TO THE BARN TO FEED THE LIVESTOCK!
YOU SHOULD STRING A ROPE FROM HERE TO THE BARN SO'S YOU KIN FIND YER WAY BACK!
WISH ME LUCK!
I'll admit we didn't eat french toast, but boy howdy, did we ever eat. I cooked up a chicken stir-fry heavy on the fresh veggies in the wok and Keena contributed a crispy crunchy romaine salad with high-dollar Cesar dressing. We counteracted all these greens with chewy turtle cookies (caramel, chocolate chips, pecans) fresh and warm from the oven that we ate while watching Slipstream, a hallucinogenic film written and directed by Anthony Hopkins that starred everyone in the world.
It is mine and Keena's cosmic fate to have to watch these types of movies whenever we get together. She reminded me of our last visit during which we watched Inland Empire, David Lynch's schizophrenic film featuring a perpetually alarmed Laura Dern.
The good news about these types of movies is that they are largely without a plot, making it possible for us to both play on our laptops while still soaking in the cinematic weirdness.