Thursday

Winter has arrived. Low teens here tonight, with some wind. I've taken the chicken route and have put off running until daytime tomorrow.

Less than a week now until the next official FFF. Not that I'm counting.

3 has had another "critter" turn up in her apartment. Not a pleasant experience. I'm thinking that her building must be a little older and has a little more Boston history in it's walls and floors than what might be expected in a newer property.

My basement has a regular crew of spiders. An occasional centipede of some sort. I spray killer-stuff every once in a while, but they always come back. I think that all basements get buggy.

Which reminds me of the "non-basement" in the original house on the farm. That single-room basement was one with a dirt floor and stacked-stone walls. There really wasn't even a set of stairs down to it. The ingress may have been altered when we put in the furnace sometime in my early grades. (Before then, there was only an old coal-oil fired stove in the kitchen to heat that room only. But this is an area that AM would have better knowledge.)

I think that Mother had a cabinet down there and stored some canned goods (tomato juice, corn and green beans). No insulation. But really not a lot of "critters", probably because of the cats and dogs.

Another bad day on Wall Street. Is this like a broken record, or what? I have no answers. Work longer. Save more. Stay healthy. Trust me on this one: regardless of how honest that you think that you are with yourself, your risk tolerance is lower than you think that it is, and much lower than what your broker thinks that it is.

Yankee hurler Mike Mussina announced his retirement today, ending his 18 year career with 270 wins. He won 20 games this last year, for the first time. Were the Fates, his relievers, and the fielders behind him a little more clutch in some key games, his 20 win season numbers could easily have been in the 5-6 range. He was a tenacious competitor without overpowering stuff, and probably could have hung on for a couple more years to get to the 300-win level that would cinch his election to the Hall of Fame. Now, his HoF fate rests in the hands of that august group, the Baseball Writers of America. In my book, he deserves the nod.

3 asked me to test the local SB's baristas on the recipe for an American misto. An Americano with steamed milk. The Duck Creek girls were all over it. I think that I need to tweak whatever the standard portions are just a little as I don't like all that much cream in my coffee. But I like the idea of steaming everything. Good idea, 3!

Glad to see Friday. Hope the weekend is good.

BCOT