Winter has officially arrived, albeit a limping, wimpy version of Pennsylvania winters. There’s no snow on the ground, no inch-thick layer of ice to scrape from the windshield, and no biting winds tearing at our faces. I still point and laugh at all the southerners bundled up like Eskimos today. Are the temperatures still in double digits? Then it isn’t winter yet.
I remained faithful to my promise to abstain from hockey talk for at least 24 hours and am ready to explode. The Lightning finally won last night, beating the Florida Panthers 3-1, and my favorite player (Marty St. Louis) scored a goal. I didn’t see the end of the game because (a) I was half-asleep by 9 PM, and (b) the game was so damn frustrating, with every great play followed by delivering the puck on a silver platter to the Panthers like a sacrifice to the hockey gods. They play the Carolina Hurricanes tonight, so we’ll see if they can win more than one before slumping back into Loserville.
In other news….I saw this and just have to repeat it: Two students at Southern Illinois University in Edwardsville kidnapped, paddled and burned a young man with fresh-baked cookies after a drug deal went bad, prosecutors said (Chicago Sun Times). Not the dreaded cookie torture! I’ve never participated in a drug deal, admittedly, but I never pictured an amiable host wearing a starched apron and graciously offering a plate of freshly-baked cookies with which to relax after the pesky business talk. Violent, cold-blooded drug dealers do not offer glasses of milk with their cookies, I hear. And apparently, the most feared ones, the ones that strike blood-curdling terror in the hearts of even the bravest amongst us…will use those freshly-baked cookies as weapons. *shudder*
Am I the only one wondering what is IN those cookies?