Four to eight inches, they excitedly predicted on the news, all day yesterday. I got up at my usual ridiculous hour this morning (4 A.M.) and looked out the door to see only a dusting of white stuff.
Now, on early news, the man is backpedaling rapidly, saying, "It's looking more and more like we'll only get two inches." He doesn't sound so excited today.
I made the graham-cracker crust for my cherry-cheesecake pie already, only to discover that I don't have any reconstituted lemon juice for the filling. I don't think this is an item my daughter or my neighbors would have on hand to borrow. That's OK, I'll get hold of the grandson before he comes home later today (he seldom comes home on Friday nights... I don't ask where he goes; I'm not sure I want to know).
The butchering project is still in the plans: If the people with the two hogs make it here, Cliff will shoot them, skin and gut them, and hang them from the rafters in the shop to cool. Then tomorrow he'll cut the hogs into genuine cuts of meat. If I have time and feel like it, I will post pictures. I will give a warning, though, for squeamish city people who think it's cruel to kill animals. I trust those of you who feel this way are conscientious enough to abstain from poultry, pork, and beef.
Actually, I can understand why a person would be bothered by the actual killing and butchering process. Just don't complain when I post pictures, because this is MY journal. As I said, I will warn you so you need not see pictures if you don't want to. You won't click on my journal and see a hog carcass unless you want to see it. I'll make sure the first picture in the album is something innocent and non-scary.
Is that a deal?