It's about 3:00 p.m. and we're definitely frosted. Looks like one of the Kincaid (sp.) light and fluffy scenes. There's very little on the road, just the airbrushed sides are white. Still far from what it normally looks like here in February. We'll see.
The coffee ran out so I made tea. And added sugar, white processed sugar, making this the first straight up white sugar I've had since January 1st. It sucks. One teaspoon in a cup from a pot of rather strong tea, and it grossed me out. I'm beginning to think my lifelong love of sweets is over. Dark dark chocolate I still love, and it tastes sweet to me, just not too sweet. Makes me wonder how much sugar I was eating before without even noticing. The old people in my family rarely ate desserts now that I think of it. Pie, "but not too sweet," they'd eat. Lemon things. Maybe tastebuds change as you age. I now eat things that made me nauseous to look at when I was young. Like mushrooms. Sometime in my 30s mushrooms moved into my favorites list. Now I can take or leave them. Sugar, I'm pretty sure, is now a leave it.
Speaking of Sugar, the woman who writes Dear Sugar broke her anonymity when she published a book:
Strider let me know about that, it's one of those things she does.
My niece just left a comment saying Davy Jones died. I know some people who'll be very bummed out to hear this news.
A heart attack in his sleep, the press is saying. He wasn't that old. 66 isn't very old to me anymore. 80 is the new 60 to me. I was young enough to be a Monkees fan but I was fixated on Ringo at the time. Still, good memories.
So long, Davy.