Of the 40 largest cities in the United States, Milwaukee has the coldest winter weather, based on normal daily temperatures, according to Current Results, a website that tracks weather trends. The lakeside Wisconsin city's daily winter mean temperature is 24.1 degrees Fahrenheit. But fellow Great Lakes metropolis Cleveland is the fourth-coldest U.S. city, with a daily winter mean temperature that's not much higher at 28.4 degrees Fahrenheit.
Robert Powell, Marketwatch 12/19/2010
It's easy to stray off the matter at hand. That's why I cover my eyes when I turn on the computer. The Yahoo front page headliner for this morning: Ten Worst States For Retirees piques my interest. Do I live in the worst state? Oh gosh, I'm safe. Illinois ranks number 1 for high taxes, fiscal difficulty and bad weather. Too bad you FIB's. I scroll down to the above paragraph. With this morning's temperature at 0 degrees, I walk outside in sweats and slippers to feed the birds. My internal thermometer says it must be about 20 degrees. I remember walking to work, an eight block journey, in downtown Milwaukee with a ski mask over my face, heavy gloves and the warmest winter coat I owned. One New Year's Eve, when Dawn and I lived in the back of our retail store, we decided to have pizza at a downtown restaurant and walk to the posh hotel on the east bank of the Milarky River. Despite my real shearling coat buttoned tightly at the neck and a scarf wrapped around the same, we almost froze to death. It was a seven block walk.
Mid morning here in Kickapoo Center the sun is shining brightly. If one were to work outside, sunglasses are a necessity. Like Arizona( which also made the ten worst list) no matter what the temperature outside everything's wonderful when the sun shines. I must be suffering from SAD, seasonal affective disorder.
Once again I have strayed.
The focus of today's post after a brief side trip about the Pooch is Uncle Bob's "HOW TO" corner.
The Pooch has a favorite hiding place. Here, he's safe from one pointy nosed, snoopy dog. When I bend down to take the picture of him in his bag hideout, he leaps forward toward me. He does the same thing to the dog. Lately both animals have been cooped up because of the snow and low temperatures. They've amused themselves in a variety of ways. If the Pooch is really bored, he'll take on the dog. This amounts to scrunching down and waiting until the dog is in a frontal position. Then he'll grab in a headlock. Once he's got Mandy's attention, he'll try to bite her in the butt. It's all good fun and Mandy tries to accommodate by lying on her side in a submissive gesture. Her fondest wish is that the cat will take pity on her and lick her snout. Mandy loves being licked on the snout.
That's my breakfast. I cook with cast iron pans. For one, I like the even heat distribution. What I don't care for is a hot handle. There are an assortment of micro fiber towels hanging from the oven handle, and refrigerator door. If one is not careful to fold the towel into fourths, a burned paw is the result. The other day at Crazy Frank's , the local discount/overstock emporium I grab the $1.29 sani-spray cleaner for my sausage works. Down one aisle I spot a silver oven mitt with a pocket. If a person orders fajittas at a Mexican restaurant, they'll bring out a sizzling pan with a mini-mitt on the handle. Thus, the inspiration for asking Dawn to make me three mini mitts from the .99 pocket oven mitt.
Recently Dawn purchased a new computerized sewing machine. It has sixty seven different stitches. On the inaugural voyage, she made me a handkerchief big enough to wear as a shirt.
A little while later, I asked her to add a hem on a Yakima Camp wool blanket I mistakenly washed. Because the cheap wool blanket was poorly hemmed, it started to unravel in the wash. I picked tufts of wool out of the washer for days after ward. With her new sewing machine, she reincarnated the old blanket complete with satiny trim. It lies in a closet because it's too nice and too warm for a dog and cat to snooze on. Her fancy zig-zag stitch turned that .99 mitt into three pot handle holders. The king of cheap was thrilled. A minor adjustment for the flap she left on the mini mitts which caught fire when I had the flap turned toward the burner, completed the task. Oh wow.
Now I can play Mexican restaurant at home by myself. I can also play Uncle Bob's Italian Pizzeria. The Cooking For Assholes blog I follow, had a recipe for pizza dough. I double check my New York Times, Craig Claiborne cookbook for a comparison of the ingredients. Curiously the ingredients are almost identical to a recipe for dough of a Russian Pirozhki. For dinner we had teriyaki wings with pizza. Dawn says I need to halve the recipe. To fit it on the pizza stone I had to scrunch the unwieldy flab of dough, which although crunchy was a bit thick.
Oh, by the way, Crazy Frank isn't crazy. He just stutters.
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