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Cold and wet, hurrah

January 17, 2017

It’s almost 5 pm (1700 still, to my mind, even after all these years) here in West Texas. It’s a sort of drizzly rain and the thermometer on the patio here at RM Ranch reads a pretty cool 42 degrees. I know people who say they prefer hot weather to cold. I’m not one of them. If I have to choose, I’ll take cool to cold over hot any day. Yes, part of it is the whole “I can put on extra clothes to stay warm, but I can only take off so much” but there’s more to it than that. I don’t like being hot or cold. But, if I have to endure either as nothing more than a discomfort, I’ll take being a little too cool every time. Being hot and sweaty is, well, icky. I don’t like icky.

There’s more to it, today, though. Today, it’s both cold (or cool, depending on your definition) and wet. I’ll decline the opportunity to be both of those at the same time, thanks. You might think that’s a little odd for someone who has stood on a pier and on the beach in the face of blowing ocean spray and/or rain and a northeast wind waiting for a hungry bluefish to bite. The difference is that when the bluefish would run back near my hometown, they bit pretty frequently. I’ll endure a lot if the fish are biting. One year I decided that if being cold and wet was okay while fishing, it would be endurable while hunting. I decided to try duck hunting (it’s worth noting that not every duck hunter hunts while it’s cold and wet). The day I chose was particularly miserable. I was young and decided that the experienced duck hunters had become weak with the years. I, on the other hand, was young, strong and virile, so off I went to the duck blind.

It sucked. Bad. Really bad. And the ducks, a lot smarter than a teenager with an attitude, stayed home, wherever that was. I didn’t see a single one. Instead, I sat there in the wet, cold and miserable. I was almost frozen by the time I decided to give it up and go home.

So, today, in honor of that young, foolish man I used to be, I got up early and took care of the rabbits and chickens. My wife and I made our requisite trip through which we support the sagging economy of the Walton family. Other than that, I’ve stayed home. Inside. In the warm and dry. Cold is okay. Wet is okay. Both at the same time? No thanks.

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