There are lots of cooks out there who actually know what they are doing. I pretty much taught myself to cook, out of necessity. I haven’t a clue most of the time, but I do love to eat. 
It has been an unseasonably dry winter. Up until Friday, when it started to snow. It has been snowing all weekend. Sunday morning it cleared, revealing a sparkling winter wonderland. With no pressing need to go anywhere, most people elected to stay home, off the treacherously slick roadways; we fell in with the majority opinion and stayed put.
I put my free time to good use, improving the leads on my pulk by threading the cordage through a couple of five-foot lengths of ½” PVC. Amy and I took the dogs for a short walk to try out the modifications, with Walter pulling the sled.
Ingredients
-
Equal parts Drambuie and Scotch
-
splash of bitters
-
twist of orange
-
candied cherry
-
ice to suit
I made a few adjustments, spreading the shafts so they wouldn’t rub on Walters hind legs. Then we set to work. I loaded the pulk with firewood and Walter hauled it to the front of the house, where I unloaded it and stacked it in the wood box, We took a couple of loads to the porch and hauled a load up to the back door so I could stack it next to the stove to dry, ready to stoke the fire as the day drew to a close. I released Walter from his harness and Amy shut him in the laundry room to dry off. I asked her to give him praise and treats for a job well done. He greedily ate the cheese she offered him, but still bitterly resented his incarceration.
I sympathized with him, I really did. I was looking forward to my own praise and treats, having replenished the fire-box with wood for the next anticipated storm. Instead I was scolded for tracking snow in and not cleaning up after myself.
Chastened, I shook the doormat off and swept the snow out the backdoor before retiring to the library with a Rusty Nail. If I must provide my own praise and treats, then so be it, I shall.
