I found snow today, so I left Fargo sleeping in the house and went off to ski for a while. It was pretty cold, but nto as cold as it was the last time I went out. None of that feeling that my head might crack any moment, like the carnation my high school chemistry teacher dipped in liquid nitrogen. Crumble. I can picture my head doing that, but it didn't happen today.
No one was out. I had a lot of space to myself, and I didn't push myself. For those of you who watched the Winter Olympics, I use a "classic" style, mostly because I could never quite get the hang of skate-style. I like to think it looks more elegant.
After I came back in, I cooked some rice and put some leftover sweet-and-sour pork on it. Fargo has long since made his dislike of sweet-and-sour known, but he sat near me, watching me eat. I offered him some, and he sniffed the fork and backed away. Still, he sits there, as if he's expecting something. I'll tell you what he's expecting... he's expecting me to quit eating that stuff and go make something he likes!
I am a slave to the demands of a kitten.