I feel like I'm living in the pages of a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. I'm huddled at home in front of the crackling fireplace making a corn husk doll while Pa trudges through the hip-deep snow. Okay, I'm not making a doll, but I am sitting in front of the fireplace. And don't feel too bad about Pa . . . he is trudging through hip-deep snow, but safely inside his toasty warm 4-wheel-drive truck.
For those of you who have never seen –9° on a thermometer . . .
Dinner last night: white chili, cornbread