So it’s grey and windy, a rare treat for Kansas City, and I, refusing to work, have been standing outside for hours inhaling the weather.
For some people November is winter. Like most things in the middle of America it is probably officially so, or officially not. Like a Most Valuable Player. Or a Thursday. I wonder if the people who invented clocks and calendars realized they were scratching lines through time and flowers?
Winter in KC is too cold on the outside, too hot on the inside, and too dry everywhere, with too few snow days for the local population, and too few rain days for me. And then there are the days when it is unseasonably warm.
But anyway, I just caught a glimpse of that horribly relentless blue sky again, so let me stick the kettle on and we’ll have a chat.