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Of weather switches, pots and pans

Last weekend’s weather prompted body shock.

The Friday of that weekend it was 70 something degrees.

November no-coat weather. Yes!

I was horseback riding, enjoying a spin on Thunder. Wearing a T-shirt. (Me, not the horse. He’s not big on those.)

Better Half was golfing …. or trying to, calling me anxiously while stuck in traffic heading south on state Route 7. He and his golf buddies weren’t getting to their destination quickly enough — Paradise Hills, a fitting name and location for a fitting pursuit, I am inclined to think.

“How come traffic’s backed up?” Better Half barked on the heels of a curt hello, sounding a little frustrated and a little grumpy, too. And figuring I had all the answers because that’s a wife’s job, especially one who works for a newspaper.

“Probably blasting, sweetums,” I said, sensing his distress from afar, sorry to have to deliver a dose of harsh reality to one longing for the links.

We ultimately both enjoyed that sunny, warm bonus day, with our independent hobby pursuits, well aware that the weekend forecast prediction was for a night-and-day kind of temperature switch.

Saturday was a cruel reminder of what I like less and less about Ohio — the months that aren’t 70 something. Temperatures dropping. Cold. Windy. Brrrr.

Yuck. Coat and glove weather. Ice scrapers. Salt — and not the kind to make a good hamburger great.

It was stinky Saturday conditions, for sure, so I figured we needed to go somewhere warm and do something worthwhile.

I decided it was a good day to shop and buy a new set of pots and pans, which is kind of an ironic consumer move on my part given I’m not much of a cook unless I’m guilted into it.

Honestly, there is no sadder phone conversation that transpires between a mother and son than when my ever-the-optimist Adam calls home with the hesitant inquiry, “Anything for dinner, mom?”

And my sorry response is, “Yeh, anything you stop and buy to cook for yourself, dear.” (And the Mother of the Year award goes to…..)

Seriously, though, my pots and pans are pitiful. And there was a sale. Who wants to pay good money for good pans? Surely not me.

Besides, shopping for such things is a good weather-distracting indoor activity, second only to cleaning out a cupboard for the new acquisitions.

It was time for that space to bid farewell to some of those pots and pans that probably haven’t seen the light of day since the last time a Republican was in the White House.

So I’ve got new things to cook in and a cleaner cupboard to show for it. I feel inspired. Maybe I’ll fix dinner.

Talk about body shock.

(Kiaski, a resident of Richmond, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)

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