baby its cold outside


frost on the cars this morning is the surest sign that winter is approaching fast.  Snow pellets last night were smacking the windshield as I drove into Midland. Our neighbours tried calling our snow plough guy to renew their contract but found his land line out of service and no answer on his cell phone.  So they have gone with a new man.  We have followed suit.  I hope it was a lottery win not something negative.  I have let my beard grow back to full, my personal 24 hour scarf.  I wish it wasn’t a white one but it is.  My hair is still brown. A gift from my Mom who had brown hair with the the tiniest wisp of grey right up till her death just three days short of her 80th birthday. OTOH I can thank her and my uncles, her brothers for my male pattern baldness. My Dad had a small bald spot about the size of small doughnut on the top back of his head.  His hair turned snowy. He died in his 73rd year. I think of both often, just about every day.

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Author: William J. Gibson

62 year old - writer/photographer Canadian, survived open heart surgery, received kidney transplant, sometimes dour, sometimes amusing, over six feet in height, severely follicle challemged

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