Overcoming fuzzy math…

My math was fuzzy on the word count from this week’s letters to the kids.  I forecast 650 or so, when in reality it weighed in at 719.  That’s pretty typical.  I’ve cut-and-pasted a few paragraphs from this week’s letter (January 27).  So before you go off half-cocked about this being all about weighty matters, lots of what they see is fairly mundane and ho-hum.  That is, I think pretty reflective of daily life.  Not that there aren’t the more exciting moments, but hey, our daily grind is made up of the grand and the not-so-grand.

In case you were wondering, I estimate the total letters to Ellen are in the 450+ range (Ellen, feel free to differ).  Reid has seen fewer because he didn’t join this parade until he got to college.  Lucky him.  In case you were wondering II, the reason I don’t know the exact total owes to “technical problems.”  More on that down the road.  But here are snippets from the January 27 letter:

January 27

Ellen/Reid: When I opened the front door at 5:30 this morning to retrieve the paper and get an early check on the weather, the porch was strewn with all the cushions from the settee and chairs.  And the front decking planks were wet for the first time in memory.  I knew we’d had a storm but it wasn’t until I turned on NPR in the car that the facts became known: we’d had a tornado zip through town and that’s what blew everything around.  My usual route to work was blocked by high water so I had to look for an alternate path which was found pretty quickly.  Our storms are nothing by Midwestern standards in terms of winds and ferocity, but when it rains, man, it can come down by the bucketful.  The forecast is for cold and maybe snow by the weekend.

In a sign of how far we are ahead of you weather-wise, the daffodils are up 5-6 inches on the decorative island at the first traffic stop I come to.  Last year the flowers bloomed right around February 1.  Our daily average high is 51F right now and it has nowhere to go but up.  The birds are singing in the morning so that must mean they’re ready to get on with spring, too.  A little too cold to open the windows during breakfast, however.

Your grandparents are coming back from Palm Springs, CA a day early.  They don’t say why that is but it is either trouble with your grandmother or your grandfather’s ailing hip is killing him.  He’s got to have it replaced.  Reid, send them a ‘thank you’ note for the check they sent you (their address).  They’d like to hear from you.  Trust me, they always ask how you guys are doing.  They ask about you before they ask about me.


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