Last Sunday, I gave a half-full/half-empty canister of cat treats to my longtime neighbor. We kept the treats for the neighbor's cats -- Oreo and Hoppy -- who were frequent visitors to our front porch.

My mantra for the coming year seems to be: "I will not stand idly by." I think it originates in the Bible from Leviticus, I'm no expert in that department.

  I am reasonably convinced that I have written this blog before but the conversation continues so indulge me.     In my house, we are temperaturistically opposed. Yes, I know that is not really a word.  

I had an experience this week that truly showed me that, no matter how we perceive ourselves, there are others who see us quite  differently.  

I no longer devote much time to any music station. I long for the days of WNEW-FM which enjoys a Facebook page. No matter what music station you would dial up on terrestrial radio, the weeks leading up to the holidays means music that reflects that spirit and themes.

They call it a Polar Vortex, the Siberian Express, the Canadian Clipper...I just call it winter.   It's here...look out your windows (for those of us in the Northeast) and revel in the snow. I've got my snow thrower and shovels at the ready. You know it's winter when Fred is getting ready to go south and the sounds of winter suburbia fill the air. That low muffled rumbling of a snow thrower with the ocassional rush of the town plow scraping the streets.   In fact, my neighbor started his snow thrower at exactly 8A...I think he's reading my blogs :)

Jefferson Crowther is the father of American Hero, Welles Remy Crowther, the legendary 24 year old "Man in the Red Bandanna", and the son of Bosley Crowther, renowned film critic for the New York Times from 1940 until 1967. That's a lot of greatness to be sandwiched between, and yet, in his way, Jefferson is the greatest Crowther of all.  I say that because I know Jefferson up close and personal: to know Jefferson is to be with an extraordinary sensitive, cultured, mannered, emotional and kind man. 

Except, perhaps, for walking and chewing, you really can't do two things at the same time. I was at a conference on health care. Two days of presentations. Lawyers sitting behind long rows of narrow tables. Several laptops and many, many smartphones resting on the tablecloths that covered the tables. My phone found its way to the space in front of me. Although I turned off the ringer, the light of alerts often caught my eye.