Tuesday, December 25, 2012

White Fury

     Winter blows through Amarillo this morning, and she is one furious bitch. Visibility is a fantasy. I barely make out the forms of my two oldest sons trekking their way home from the corner store. (Can you believe they are old enough to buy cigarettes?)

     They burst through the entry, bringing along an icy gust that whips through my tiny house like a poltergeist and scares the heat right out the door.

     David asks me if I've stashed any scarves or stocking hats under the tree. I have to remind him that this is still Texas, and the weather will be warmer tomorrow.

     I turn away to check the bacon and to hide my smirk. I only feel a little guilty that I did buy them winter gear, but we won't open gifts until the grandkids get here.