Thanksgiving day in the upper midwest is wintry. The wind has blown all night, mixed in with occasionally snow and freezing rain. After a rather mild fall, it was 12 degrees Fahrenheit at 7 AM this morning. It’s a good morning to hang around inside, enjoy the fire place, drink dark roasted coffee from Honduras, wonder if we’ll make the drive to friends this afternoon, all while being grateful for the love of a benevolent God.
And while I was doing my best to do nothing, Nevada Jack, my alter-ego, was pounding away at the keyboard… When he heard me report the temperature this morning, in Fahrenheit, a light went off in his little head--hence the previous post (I had to wait till he finished to get to the computer).