Happy Valentine's Day

A Modern Guide to the Love Letter

From the right kind of stationery to the wrong kind of metaphor, a how-to on the art of epistolary wooing.

The above article is from The Atlantc. If you'v ever been a romantic, are a romantic or think you may be at some point in your life read the above. Do not forget what today is and at least honor the woman in your Life with the words "Happy Valentine's Day." As for me I like to start each day with "Have I told you lately that I Love You?"

To all you ladies out there, especially Mary Agnes, Kathryn, Sarah, Beth, Sam, Rachael, Abby, Jill, Rebecca, Mia and Anna, "Happy Valentine's Day," from this old Rooster. Hey Lois and Cheryl, "Happy Valentine's Day also."

My thoughts to all.

The Tolland, CT Fiddlers


Matt and Beth recently took a day off for just the two of them and ventured north to Vermont. The rented snow mobiles at Mt. Snow and played in the white stuff instead of cursing it for a change. Good for you guys.

Where in the world is JB?


Have not heard differently so I'm assuming he's in this area on a lay over or getting on Big Bird for the flight home. Will have to spend a few days in DC to complete the dreaded paperwork, then cross over the bridge and head home.

Where in the States are Mary Agnes and Kathy?


The two ladies took a hop on Southwest on 02/12 and headed out to OK City for a visit with the Davies family. Roomer has it that they will take over parenting of Mia and Ana on Friday night and Sam and Zed shall get an overnight, out and ALONE. Back to BWI on Monday.

Got Your Long Johns Out?

http://www.accuweather.com/en/weather-news/northeast-snowstorm-blizzard-valentines-weekend/42131356

FOX NEWS WEATHER CENTER

Boston braces for Valentine's Day weekend winter storm

A Boston Street, Courtesy of The Guardian

The Mouse? (Continued)

Mary Agnes went off to the Dentist on Thursday the first thing in the morning. I began my usual chores with the chickens. We get a lot of food donations in the form of breads and vegetables from our daughters and neighbors. This morning I spent a bit of time making a food collage for our eight girls and their overseer Casper.

Thinking once again of the elusive prey somewhere in the house, I prepare another device for his capture. I have a special place in mind up in the loft’s eves. There has been occasional forensic evidence in the past that would leave one to believe it could be a passageway for the yet to be found perpetrator of ill well towards Simon. If he's there, he will surely enter this portal.

Once back in the house Maggie quickly realizes I’m carrying a strange device with luring crystals inside it. I hang up my hat and coat and begin the assent to the second floor and ultimately to the loft via a second steep staircase. Trying to be as stealth as possible, in hopes of hearing the critter scurrying, my cover is broken. Maggie, right on my tail, comes bounding up the steps behind making enough noise to awaken the dead buried in the old cemetery directly opposite our home.

Using a flashlight I brought with me, I remove a piece of drywall craw in a few feet and check the area behind it. I check the insulation to the right and left, no signs of mice scat. Dang, I was sure I was on the right path with this light bulb moment.

I craw out backwards, my flashlight shuts off and I am instantly so in the dark. Claustrophobia sets in a bit as I scurry backwards to my escape portal. I reach my opening and quickly stand up. Oops, “#@*&*#^%*$, “ I say as my bald head hits the pipe we use to hang off season clothing on. A happy camper I am not. Now there is even more reason to complete my journey of eliminating this nuisance.

With Sarah still out of town selling seafood to snowbound New Englanders we journey into Salisbury and make dinner for our grandson Tommy. After a meal of Spaghetti and meatballs we tidy up the place, say goodnight to Tommy and head on home. As is the norm here on the Eastern Shore we pass many Whitetail deer on the 11 mile journey home along country roads going home. Once again we travel the gauntlet of car vs. deer without contact. Seldom is this not a trip without a few deep breath moments.

Our oldest daughter spends a great deal of time on the other side of the Pond, as we call it. She works a lot in Baltimore and you must cross the Bay Bridge from Kent Island to Annapolis over the Chesapeake Bay to get back and forth. On this day she was returning after being gone for four days and stopped by to catch up on the goings on. Now would you believe she and her mother had a glass of wine while she was here? Ah, you must know them.

We filled Kathryn in on the goings on of a few nights ago and my quest to end the invasive one’s life. All was well in her world as we got caught up in the news of our son in-law in Pakistan and our granddaughters in Oklahoma and Mississippi. I also filled her in on the exploits of Libby, Lady Liberty to be formal. Libby is a 100 pound Yellow Lab who we care for when this traveling family is gone.

One night this week as I took my last of usually four Libby runs around 8;00 pm turned into a bit of an adventure. I knew driving over this trip could adventuresome, it was raining cats and dogs. You see Ms Liberty does not like to go out in the rain. Upon arrival I lured the mutt out with a few Beneful Dog Food kibbles. I was in luck, getting wet but in luck as she traversed her usual path toward the tree line in the rear of the garage. It was but seconds until she disappeared in the dark of the night.

I gave her a good five minutes of roaming time to do her necessaries and called to her. With the heavens sending down buckets, no, make that 55 gallon drums of water and the wind whipping down the plain I continued to call to no avail. Did I mention the temperature was just a few degrees above freezing?The smile of my jovial self as I met her ten minutes earlier has completely passed. I’m pissed now.

I pull out my iPhone 6, turn on the flashlight and begin to search. I don’t want the dog getting hit by a car on my watch. Inside I’m seething as I slosh through backyards . I call out in the dark, ”Here Libby, want a treat, come on girl lets get a bone.” Nothing but cold wet rain beating on my face and drenching me from head to toe.

Suddenly a thought comes to mind, what if one of these home owners whose yards I’m traipsing through looks out and sees a man in a hoodie with a flashlight walking around his house? The only thing that comes to mind is Travon Martin in Orlando, FL. I make a U-turn and its back to the house I go.

I put the Keurig to work, make a cup of Jo, and begin to warm my bones when I hear a “Woof -Woof” competing with the rain beating on the windows over the kitchen sink.
My words are unprintable as I head to French Doors off the porch to bring the Harriet Houdini of Electric fences in. Heaven only knows the mess she would have made on the kitchen floor.

I dried her off, cleaned the mud from her paws and brought her in. I was happy she was safe, held my tongue from what I really wanted to say and gave her a Rawhide bone as a reward for her safe return. I chalked the night off to my little contribution to establishing Foreign Policy and Health Care Reform. ie: Libby’s parents being with the State Dept and Care First BC/BS.

I know, I’ve gone completely off track regarding my own animals and their quest for the elusive critter in my own house. With our teenage care completed and back home in the dry warmth we watched a bit of American Idol. I guess it’s what seventy somethings do. With about twenty minutes into the show, the Mrs. calls it a night, makes sure the show is recorded and heads to bed. As for me and my dog at my feet, we continued to stay up.

Not five minutes into watching TV alone, Maggie bolts from beneath my feet, knocking over the hassock where my feet co comfortably rested and bolted up the stairs. Once again, the chase was on I thought. I heard items from the sewing studio being knocked over and the leaping of four cat paws hitting the floor. During this time I could discern Maggie, treading in place as she tried to gain traction on the hard wood floors. All hell was breaking loose above me.

I jumped up instantly, well not really jumped and not quite instantly, but I got up quicker than usual, I am over 70 you know. I headed to the stairs at the same time the cat and dog were descending back down the stairs. As I started to reprimand the two ruffians as they came towards me I found myself eye ball to eye ball with a huge Bat. I went to my knees instantly. Phew, missed me.

“Mary, “ I said, “we got us a BAT,” as I stood next to the head of our bed which is adjacent to the stairs. With speed like Mark Spitz diving into an Olympic Pool, Mary dove, only beneath the covers like she was in quest for an Olympic Gold. I would have no help in eliminating this elusive flying rat other than the duo of Simon and Maggie.

So folks, the chase was on. I first went and opened the door to the porch and the porch door. While doing so the incessant echolocating of the Bat creating a mental picture of the walls of the rooms echoed in my ears. The cat and dog took to the path of the Bat like thoroughbreds at Churchill Downs, passing by the quilted body of Mary Agnes down deep beneath the covers. Yes, I alone was responsible for removing this intruder.

I would gather up the Tartan Plaid Binky Mary Agnes snuggles with while on the couch and attempt to use it to divert the critter. Numerous attempts at this diversion failed to direct him from the house. I hollered to my hunkered down spouse that I was off to retrieve my fishing net out in the garage. I did so in my socks over the freezing pebbled driveway. Amazingly the net was where it should be and I was back in the house in a flash. Well, maybe a slow burning fire of several twigs. I would be the Prince to the rescue.

As I strode through the doorway, the bat, cat, and dog slipping still to gain traction, comically circled round and round the two downstairs rooms. I felt like a parent watching his children on the Merry Go Round. I hollered to the Mrs. “ I’ve got the net,” there was a muffled indiscernible reply. I knew where she was, it was up to me.

I took position at the end of the short hall and waited. The Bat made the turn, Simon leaping behind it. I readied the net, cast it upward and missed. “(*#^*&% “said I as I readied for the next pass. Nicknacks are falling from their respective places of honor as the trio makes another go-around. I ready once again in my crouched position, this time I am victorious. As i hurry to the door I bang into the kitchen table, I drop the net and before I can pick it up the ugly rodent takes to flight once again. With foresight I move the table and some chairs.

I return to my position for apprehension once again and await the circling trio who are back on the Merry Go Round. I glance at the Mrs., under cover with only her Butt sticking up in the air. There are no words of encouragement.

Around the bend they come and once again I complete a perfect entrapment. Holding the base ring of the net to the floor, I scurry to the open door and toss the net out onto the porch, slam the door shut and let out a sigh of relief. I holler to the Mrs. “All Clear.” Simon and maggie look at the door with that, what the hell just happened look. Their play toy is gone. All Quiet on the Fiddler front.

The Mrs. comes out of her hibernation, we have a celebratory glass of wine, look at each other as we bang glass’ and bust out laughing as I say, “ Got the bastard!”