We’re on the eve of the full moon with a local-weather outlook for an overcast sky again through the end of next week. The viewing of Sunday’s Super Cold Moon is in peril of being obscured by clouds. Happened last month too in the Philadelphia area.
Figures that since it’s a super moon, which appears larger than most of the others for being closest in its orbit to Earth, I’ll probably miss the event. Not really the end of the world, however; there will be others.
This month’s lunar peak is named after the typically cold, outside temperatures in December, as winter sets in with short days and long nights, when the proverbial “Frost is on the Pumpkin.” Yet, the solstice is almost three weeks away, so the frigid weather has yet to appear.
Actually mild temps have blessed us thus far, with the thermometer expected to reach into the low 60s F (18 C) by mid-week, but then going down into the low to mid-30s (6 C) during the day, and mid- to upper 20s (-4 C) at night for the remainder.
I’ve taken out the long handles already and worn them on some chilly days recently. That’s the trick for surviving the cold and not becoming housebound for the whole season when not having to be anywhere. Dressing in layers is the secret to remaining warm.
When in doubt about what to write for a weekly tirade, talk about the weather. That works in real life too when trying to strike up a conversation with someone. Two hundred and sixty-nine words have been used up antecedently. How’s that for small talk?
Moving along, the news hasn’t been very good lately, especially about movie actors and producers, TV and talk-show personalities, politicians and even musicians who have been accused of sexual harassment. They seem to be dropping like flies. Good for them! No woman deserves to be treated that way.
I have to confess, before my being subjected to any accusations, that I pinched a coworker’s butt once, while we were posing for a group photo, timing it right as the photographer snapped the picture.
She was standing in front of me and the devil made me do it. Brenda, not her real name, whooped, hollered and flailed her arms like a bird taking a bath in a puddle of water. She raised herself off the floor by about two feet (over one-half meter) and was in mid-air when the flash went off.
I never knew a woman’s face could turn such a crimson shade of red. Fortunately, we were friends, and I didn’t end up with an imprint of her hand on either side of my face; although, she did punch me while overhearing my asking the photographer for a copy of that snapshot. He didn’t part with the picture, especially after seeing Brenda’s uppercut to my gut.
Too bad, I would have loved to share it with you. However, allow me to share my latest cover tune, called, “Short Skirt/Long Jacket.”
Happy Super Cold Moon! I hope both you and I get to see it. Thanks for reading, listening—if you did—and for your continued support.