Ernest Shackleton has nothing on us! Ok, well at least not much. We are, after all, on DAY THREE! ;) Looking out the window you wouldn't be impressed. It's just a little skiff of white, but it covers at least one solid inch of -prison. We've tried to make the best of it, but the regular tiffs that occur over Scrabble words turn into out and out brawls when your ship is slowly being crushed on all sides. And while we're feeling extremely fortunate to have power, and I realize my complaints are on the verge of whimpy whining, it doesn't stop us from pining for more.Bert 'endured' as long as humanly/familial-y possible. In his words home was "sensory overload". He decided to roll the dice, take his chances, and slowly drive to work today. Ironically enough, his pickup slid off the road five miles from the Choctaw Casino near Paris. Fortunately, he's smart enough to know when the odds are against him, and he won't be tempted to gamble further. The brisk walk helped keep him from frostbite, and the day of sleeping in the motel will hopefully cure him of the flu/cold he got while doing so.
The good news is, prison finally made the time to make the bread we've been craving (Hydn still likes me, even when the rest would like to hook me to jumper cables.)
It also gave us time to dissect all the little frozen specimens hidden in our freezer; compliments of Bert's past year - an eyeball (Alchmaeon - The ancient Greek who discovered the optic nerve), a uterus (sex education?), and a puppy fetus (morbidity I guess).
Other than that, it's just been school as usual, reading, and movies.
(bean sprouts - to help us remember Pythagoras.)
My hat's off to Ernie and his crew. Four hundred and ninety four more days??
