Confessions of a Mouth-breather

The time has arrived to come clean: I am a mouth breather. All these years I tried delude myself into thinking that there just no way. I didn't read the signs: waking up to a pool of drool resting on the pillow; being teased by my aunt that I never closed my mouth all of the way; and, of course, having trouble breathing through my nose alone.

But tonight I was walking to the store (on a quest for hot chocolate - hey, when chocolate calls it doesn't matter how cold it is outside). And boy was it cold tonight. I was halfway there when I realized that I had been putting my tongue up to my front teeth to warm them up. How silly! I thought. And yet, I was having trouble keeping my mouth shut - it took conscious effort.

So there it is. I've bravely confessed much to my own disappointment that I am, indeed, a mouth breather.


On another note, I'm also being stalked by a fox. After work I had a burst of energy and needed to do something productive so I was shoveling the front walk when a red fox ran out from behind one of our trees, looked back at me, and then trotted on down the road. AND THEN when I was walking to the store, a red fox was just ahead of me in the road and stopped for the longest time watching me approach him and then ran on and stopped again until I came too close for comfort. And whatever my roommate, Erin, may say the fox was stalking me despite the fact that he was running before me. It's all part of the fox's ploy, to run away when I approach him so that no one will believe that Red (as I've just christened the fox) is, in fact, stalking me.

At least it's not a moose. I was grateful to remember that I didn't have to worry about bumping into a moose as I was walking to the store.


And finally, a year in Kentucky really does make you forget all the glories of snow (no offense Kentucky friends). Tonight, I saw a sheet of sparkly crystalized snow smoothed perfectly out by the wind despite how fluffy it had been this morning when it was falling down out of the sky.