I woke up this morning intending to run the Second Annual Christmas Day 5K, which means I wanted to run 5K as fast as I could on the roads near my parents' house.
Instead, I'm sitting in this increasingly chilly house nursing a beer (Bell's Oracle Double IPA) and reading a succession of New Yorker magazines because at about 11:00 am the power went out. About half a mile away a transformer blew up, throwing a huge wrench into hundreds of folks' Christmas dinner plans, including ours.
The reason I didn't go running didn't have anything to do with the lack of electricity; instead, at 8:30 am I peered through the blinds at gale-force winds, sleet, and 33 degrees and thought, "Hell, no." Kona coffee and opening presents with the family sounded much more appealing.
All is not lost, however. My six-pound pork loin roast (from my hog) will end up on a dinner table because we are packing up and moving the festivities to my brother and sister-in-law's house about 15 minutes away. A hot shower and working stove await.
Meanwhile, I continue to engage in the only activities available to me: reading and drinking beer. It's not so bad after all.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Mobile Blogging from here.