Misery

Not sure how many more Buffalo winters I can take. 

Yet, we haven’t even had much of a winter. There’s been very little snow to speak of, but these last couple of days?

The winds were in excess of 70 mph in some areas. A steady, intense rain.

Grey. Greyer. Greyest.

The worst part being that I’ve had to do a lot of training, and I’ve always been of the opinion that a class will feed off of the instructor.

If I’m down, they’ll be down, and the class won’t go like I want it to.

Yet, I shouldn’t be complaining at all.

The power stayed on here at Camp Clifford.

A whole bunch of people suffered through a better than 24-hour period dealing with candles and extra blankets.

Of course, I’m counting down the days to the golf long-weekend in a place where the sun will shine.

And poor Ollie!

He doesn’t like to get rained out and certainly couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t throwing passes to him.

We did play yesterday, and crazily enough he adjusted to the wind.

“You’re a psychopath,” Sam remarked as me and Ollie returned from our game. “Who else would throw for the dog in a 30-degree, cold rain?”

“He has to get his reps,” I said.

Was the best part of the day.