After a long dustbowl of a summer I can’t believe I’m thinking it, but I’m looking forward to some igloo weather and dare I say it, even a few fleeting flakes of glistening pristine snow. This is understandable of course when your body breaks a sweat just by licking self-adhesive postage stamps, or jerkin’ that last gherkin from the pickle jar. I don’t look forward to the bulky winter garb though because when it comes to ‘layering’ I always want it to be more about a triple decker hoagie rather than looking cucumberly ‘COOL’ like Bogie.
Whether it’s trenchy coats or those Michelin-Man marshmallow soft ski togs, my nose for sweaty high-brow winter style, or designer Kleenex, has never been up to snuff. You see dandy duds like wooly scarves, Bald Knobber beanies and dexterity dependent, knitted mittens tied-together forever still give me fits. I just don’t appreciate stuff like sweaters and vests that are louder and brighter than me, so my outerwear tends to fair, dull and lifeless like my lobotomized stare.
As for what’s growing and going on underneath my steamy ‘TUMdra’ and girth of winter garb, I cannot surmise with any certainty as to the rumors of rapid colonization. But being bundled and bound into a hot downy ball may be boffo for delicate ducklings, but for ‘full grow-tund’ roosters like me it’s akin to being brown-basted to a briny shine. All I know is when I finally unwrap and unstrap in the spring, one thing is for sure, my ‘Long Johns’ may be lightly glazed, but they almost NEVER smell like maple or chocolate.