Mr. Bitterman's Stuck Luck

One Foot, By My Estimate, And At Least Four Branches Lost

In one of our last adventures, Mr. Bitterman went off on vacation to Anaheim, while we pondered the notion of starting seeds indoors with my "Happy Grower Indoor Seed Starting Kit and Grow House for Dummies." I know that Colorado has quite the reputation for indoor gardening, but I'm not a part of that world, as the only thing I smoke anymore is brisket (or Brisquit, which is brisket in dough) every now and again. (And, yes, it is hard keeping it lit.)
While we returned from four days in sunny, somewhat, Los Angeles yesterday to dry and summer like conditions, this is what greeted us upon waking this morning and it has been coming down ever since. DIA is closed so Mr. Bitterman is stuck in Anaheim, possibly for months, according to him, while I haul out the chain saw and trim some trees I wasn't planning to trim.
As for the seeds , well, I'm pulling the "Junior Farmer Indoor Growing Kit for Starting Seeds to Shoost Up Toward the Sun and Sky" today, reading the instructions carefully, putting it together and, just before starting to plant, realize that I've done it backwards and will take it apart tonight, determined to get it right tomorrow.
And I will be plowing driveways. On days like this, there are always driveways to plow.
As for Mr. Bitterman, since DIA is closed today and he's stuck in Southern Californoia, he's going on Indiana Jones again today, twice, then sipping a cool drink with Walt in the shade of Sleeping Beauty's Castle before dinner and drinks at a the very exclusive Club 33.
Mr. Bitterman, it seems, knows everybody in Los Angeles.
Not that he invited us to join us while WE were in LA.
Not that he called.
Not that he got us Disneyland passes.
Not that we even met for a drink at The Brown Derby.
Mr. Bitterman can kiss my snowmobile suit clad, snow covered, bright white derrière.

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