Whitesburg KY
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Mostly cloudy

Woolly worms predict a warm winter

Points East

Thank heaven for a Monday off, so earned because I worked 12 hours on Saturday and four on Sunday so that I could have some time to take my cat to the vet because he doesn’t work on weekends. As longtime readers of this column know, I have long since stopped mentioning the names of my pets in the paper because, no sooner than I do so, than they suffer a cruel demise.

So far it has not seemed to hurt the ones we’ve buried when I speak of them after the fact. Nor have any risen from the grave.

So let’s just say that the best way to cure a cat suddenly prone to go into heat is have said cat fixed and let it go at that, while we pray that she will live to be a hundred and never be the subject of a newspaper story.

Okay, okay, if she lived to be a hundred she’d certainly make the paper. Let’s just pray for 25 and keep it quiet.

So, anyway, I’m no sooner home from the vet with my cat still in a coma and deposited there on a rug in the bathroom than I trot outside to the garage to make room for my tillers which have been waiting for the oiling and wiping and other attention I might give them on a Monday off.

I opened the drive-in door to the garage and darn near stepped into the mess. There they were.

NAWWWWW was convening in precisely the spots I had reserved for my tillers.

The National Association of Woolly Worm Winter Weather Watchers (NAWWWWW) had little signs set up that only yours truly and woolly worms can read and there near the front of the garage where I park my little Troy-bilt Pony they had marked off a spot that they had dubbed “Ballroom A Reserved for Plenary Sessions.”

Back against the far wall where I normally park my “Horse” they had sectioned off a spot bigger than your average tabletop and this was labeled, at various spots along the perimeter, “Action Auditorium.”

Now let me interject this bit of wisdom. For those of you not familiar with Woolly Worm gatherings, a space as big as a tabletop is, more or less, like the gym floor of Rupp Arena. My garage is significantly larger than the Hyatt Regency, relatively speaking. Actually it’s more like Madison Square Garden as far as any NAWWWWW delegate is concerned. They get lost all the time, do the delegates, and I find them under paint cans months after the convention is over. In other words, if you can’t figure out where you’re going, why not find a warm place to go to sleep and let the winter happen on its own good terms.

So, anyway, I walked into the gathering of NAWWWWW actually a bit ticked off because I did not recall being invited and then I noticed that I was listed as the keynote speaker on the program and about that time the biggest Woolly of them all crawled and asked where the hell I’d been.

“We gave your invitation to Mitch McConnell months ago and he was supposed to hand carry it to you.”

“Good old Mitch,” I said. “He’s been busier than normal lately and trying to keep a lid on the news. And what’s that awful smell?”

“Oh that,” said the headhoncho Woolly Worm, “is sweat off Mitch and Lonnie Napier that dripped there on the floor. They were both in here a few minutes ago squirming around like their pants were on fire and I think they may have messed their britches.”

“So what’s the winter going to be like,” I asked.

“Gonna be a warm one yet again,” he said. “Gonna be cold in December and miserably wet in January and February. Gonna have another late snow in March and maybe a white Easter. But why are you asking us? Ain’t you heard about global warming?”

I walked out on the floor to visit old friends from NAWWWW and they brushed me aside. They had no interest in the weather but they were trying to figure out ways to make a final push for Ralph Nader.

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