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We got some modest snowfall into last weekend, which seemed worse just because of the cold temperatures that followed it into that Sunday. Eleanor has a "base station" thermostat which tracks three remote sensors for temperature and humidity. One is in our cellar where she grows lettuces and such; one's in the garage freezer as a canary in the frozemine if Dumbass leaves the door open; and one out on the patio. Sunday morning, the patio was beating the Fridgidaire by a good 5F degrees. I bundled for Pepper walkies and we came home having suffered neither Frostbite nor Falls.
The Bills were flexed into a later 4:25 start against New England in Orchard Park, making it essentially a night game for the 60,000-plus fans in attendance. I neither attended nor watched, but checked in to learn it was a somewhat frozen nail-biting 24-21 win, mainly because of how hard it was to get a passing game going when it's that cold. Our resident Superman only managed one TD pass of 4 yards, the rest of their scores coming on a rush, a defensive pick-six and a field goal. Before last Sunday's game, Kansas City won to clinch the top seed in the conference, putting me in the unenviable position of rooting for the Chiefs to win on Christmas. That was because if they did -and of course they did, for it is the Will of God (Taylor's Version)- and the Ravens lost down in Deepinahola Texas, the Bills would be locked into the second seed and could rest their starters for the final two weeks of the regular season. That, alas, did not happen as Baltimore won by a bizarre but not historical score of 31-2, so Buffalo will need to beat the Dysfunctional Jets in OP tomorrow to guarantee the two-seed and a finale-game rest of starters in Foxboro the following weekend.
The mercury began rising the following day, and by today most of the snow was gone with the after-dark temperature right now being 56F. That finally got activity from Mr. and Mrs. Trailer just over our immediate western lot line, whose previous week's code violation citation led to great exasperation and a threat of retaliation when the husband thought we had snitched on them. We have yet to encounter them in person, but at least the messaging has been begrudgingly accepting of our acquittal from the charge. This morning, they accomplished the Big Move: Eleanor saw the trailer moved just a jump to the left onto their driveway, where Mr. Ridiculous usually parked his BigAss™ pickup truck, which was now backed into the driveway in front of it. We thought he planned to tow it so as to stow it offsite, but apparently this is the perfectly code-compliant plan. It begs the question of why they just didn't do that in the first place; his wife has plenty of room to park next to them or get to the garage behind them, and his work stuff and other paraphernalia in the garage limited them parking both motored vehicles in there anyway. In our assorted walkies all round this neighborhood and beyond, I've seen over a dozen campers their size or full-on Winnebago bigger, and every one was parked in their owners' driveways. Oh, and the grass below its monthlong crime? Looked perfectly green and unharmed.
----
On the other side of things, there's also been quiet, but not for as good a reason.
When the renters on our eastern lot line moved here, they brought a male black lab with them. Harley was never a playmate to any of our pups, and he could be loud and annoying at times, but when you are owned by cats you get used to that sort of thing. He even nipped at my hand once during one of our street's odd parades of lost cars trying to cut through back here to get from Sheridan to Main when the former has an accident or construction backup. His name was something of a misnomer, because on the few occasions someone passed our yards on a motorcycle, Harley acted like he was scared of them.
Yet in his own way, he helped bridge a once chasm-like gap between our being good neighbors to each other. The husband could be arrogant and clueless about many things, but you could tell, whether he was out walking his dog or lounging with him in their yard, that he loved that puppy to bits.
Now and then, we would notice- or rather not notice- Harley's barking. A few days here, a week there, the sound of silence from their yard.. Always, he would pop back up, barking at us along the fence or chasing some life form racing under their "deck." But we both noticed that he'd gone silent for longer than usual over the past couple of weeks, and we reached out with a text earlier today.
This was the sad response:
He became the latest in what has seemed an endless recent parade of pets of friends and family going to Rainbow Bridge. Farewell, Harley. You were a good boy.
The Bills were flexed into a later 4:25 start against New England in Orchard Park, making it essentially a night game for the 60,000-plus fans in attendance. I neither attended nor watched, but checked in to learn it was a somewhat frozen nail-biting 24-21 win, mainly because of how hard it was to get a passing game going when it's that cold. Our resident Superman only managed one TD pass of 4 yards, the rest of their scores coming on a rush, a defensive pick-six and a field goal. Before last Sunday's game, Kansas City won to clinch the top seed in the conference, putting me in the unenviable position of rooting for the Chiefs to win on Christmas. That was because if they did -and of course they did, for it is the Will of God (Taylor's Version)- and the Ravens lost down in Deepinahola Texas, the Bills would be locked into the second seed and could rest their starters for the final two weeks of the regular season. That, alas, did not happen as Baltimore won by a bizarre but not historical score of 31-2, so Buffalo will need to beat the Dysfunctional Jets in OP tomorrow to guarantee the two-seed and a finale-game rest of starters in Foxboro the following weekend.
The mercury began rising the following day, and by today most of the snow was gone with the after-dark temperature right now being 56F. That finally got activity from Mr. and Mrs. Trailer just over our immediate western lot line, whose previous week's code violation citation led to great exasperation and a threat of retaliation when the husband thought we had snitched on them. We have yet to encounter them in person, but at least the messaging has been begrudgingly accepting of our acquittal from the charge. This morning, they accomplished the Big Move: Eleanor saw the trailer moved just a jump to the left onto their driveway, where Mr. Ridiculous usually parked his BigAss™ pickup truck, which was now backed into the driveway in front of it. We thought he planned to tow it so as to stow it offsite, but apparently this is the perfectly code-compliant plan. It begs the question of why they just didn't do that in the first place; his wife has plenty of room to park next to them or get to the garage behind them, and his work stuff and other paraphernalia in the garage limited them parking both motored vehicles in there anyway. In our assorted walkies all round this neighborhood and beyond, I've seen over a dozen campers their size or full-on Winnebago bigger, and every one was parked in their owners' driveways. Oh, and the grass below its monthlong crime? Looked perfectly green and unharmed.
----
On the other side of things, there's also been quiet, but not for as good a reason.
When the renters on our eastern lot line moved here, they brought a male black lab with them. Harley was never a playmate to any of our pups, and he could be loud and annoying at times, but when you are owned by cats you get used to that sort of thing. He even nipped at my hand once during one of our street's odd parades of lost cars trying to cut through back here to get from Sheridan to Main when the former has an accident or construction backup. His name was something of a misnomer, because on the few occasions someone passed our yards on a motorcycle, Harley acted like he was scared of them.
Yet in his own way, he helped bridge a once chasm-like gap between our being good neighbors to each other. The husband could be arrogant and clueless about many things, but you could tell, whether he was out walking his dog or lounging with him in their yard, that he loved that puppy to bits.
Now and then, we would notice- or rather not notice- Harley's barking. A few days here, a week there, the sound of silence from their yard.. Always, he would pop back up, barking at us along the fence or chasing some life form racing under their "deck." But we both noticed that he'd gone silent for longer than usual over the past couple of weeks, and we reached out with a text earlier today.
This was the sad response:
He became the latest in what has seemed an endless recent parade of pets of friends and family going to Rainbow Bridge. Farewell, Harley. You were a good boy.