“Is it cold enough for you?”
The next person to ask me that will get smacked upside the head.
I loathe cold weather. The older I get, the more I mind it.
I remember white winters from my childhood that lasted from Halloween until Easter. I loved it then.
My friends and I would sled and build snowmen until we turned blue. The borough plowed snow into 4- and
5-foot mounds on the street corners. Boys in our ’hood constructed forts well-stocked with snowball ammunition.
I’d select a mound and create a snowy split-level. Once I even brought out a bucket of water to fashion a windowsill.
I was the Martha Stewart of ice décor.
My mom would have to drag me in the house.
The other day my buddy Music Dude (aka Jonathan) asked, “Do you have cabin fever yet?”
I answered honestly, “No. My problem is I like the cabin TOO MUCH!”
Hibernation totally appeals to me now in my geezer years.
Curl up after New Year’s, snooze until Easter … yeah, I could do that.
Punxsutawney Phil will make his prediction in a few days. Last year, he was wrong.
We didn’t get the six additional weeks of winter. That was fine with me.
The last shovel-able snow we had fell the third week of March. We got a chilly, but early, spring. We also suffered a ridiculously nippy June, July and August, which folks referred to as “the summer that wasn’t.”
If I was a groundhog, peacefully hibernating, and a few thousand noisy revelers interrupted my slumber, I might tell a lie, too.
I’ve only ever gotten up close and personal with a groundhog once.
One summer day, we awakened to one sunbathing on our deck. Bold as could be, he stretched out next to a chaise lounge.
“Is it cold enough for you?”
- Michele Bender
MICHELE M. BENDER | Scenic road to recovery
I thought this busy summer wore me out.
Father’s Day afternoon I flopped in my recliner and forced myself to do some bookkeeping. I licked an envelope and gasped. No spit, only blood ... as if Hannibal Lecter just served me lunch.
Licorice lends a paw
I bet you expected to find Michele Bender’s column here today.
She just came home from the hospital. She’s doing fine but resting, so I thought I’d lend a paw.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Time to can clutter
I’m “downsizing.” Sixteen years ago, this house was perfect for me. I gave parties. Friends came and stayed for weekends. Great insulation protected visitors from highway noise.
Yep, I had the time of my life.
But I’m 16 years older, and my friends are, too. They no longer travel like they did. Parties wear us out by 10 p.m.
Those oldies, but goodies
Twice yearly Hollywood marches out a platoon of war movies.
Living life out loud
“If I make it to Medicare,” I declared, “I’m going to throw a party people will not forget! It’ll be something no one’s ever done!”
Well, I made it to 65.
Watch the stars come out
Every spring, I catch drive-in movie fever. We are blessed to have three outdoor theaters in a 30-mile radius. Movies under the stars … heavenly!
Bye, bye, Easter birdies
Animals fascinated my mom. Riding the train between Johnstown and Philly, she saw horses, pigs, sheep, cows … a Mattel See ’n Say of farm critters.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Whisper sweet nothings in my ear
“Your call is very important to us,” growled the crabby lady at the utility company. “Please wait for the next available representative.”
MICHELE M. BENDER | Sock it to me
MICHELE M. BENDER | What happened to Christmas?
Headaches rarely bother me. I always felt sorry for folks trapped in the Advil/Dristan web.
I woke up at 4 a.m. Dec 17 with a headache that probably registered on a Richter scale. (People in New Zealand experienced aftershocks.)
- More Michele Bender Headlines
- MICHELE M. BENDER | Scenic road to recovery