Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

What a day to be a groundhog.

Poor Punxsutawney Phil.  They coaxed him out of his cozy hole to take a gander at his shadow, which everyone else says predicts another six weeks of winter and then the whole country seems to be mad at him.  They say that since 1887 Phil has seen his shadow 98 times, hasn’t seen it for 15 and for 9 of the years since then there are no records available.  Instead of ranting, raving and blaming six more weeks of cuddling weather on fuzzy Phil, shouldn’t people be more fascinated about the 123 year old rodent walking the planet?  Do you think Terminex know about this?

 

PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) apparently has opinions about Phil, recently giving a statement about how they want to force Phil into retirement and put a robot to work in his place.  I don’t know.  My friend Alan retired from the California Highway Patrol and shortly after required bypass surgery – too much of the good life, I think – I’d hate to see that sweet groundhog meet the same fate.  Sometimes work is good for a person.

 

Despite my thoughts on the matter, PETA states that Phil’s job prevents him from naturally preparing and entering hibernation and as someone who isn’t sleeping the way she used to, I feel his pain.  PETA’s other concern is that the large screaming crowds and flashing camera lights are too much for Phil.  Seriously?  He’s handled it for 123 years. Maybe Sean Penn and Lindsay Lohan could learn a thing or two from the gentlemanly way Phil has handled his Paparazzi issues and they might even pick up a thing or two about healthy living and longevity, while they’re at it.

 

Honestly, people.  Daylight Savings Time will be here in approximately six weeks, no matter what Phil predicted this morning (which was … six more weeks of winter) and the official calendar date for spring is March 20th, 2010.  Seven,  Weeks.  Away.  Poor Phil.  So maligned, yet so right.  Maybe everyone else should just crawl back into their own holes, grab a cup of hot tea (I’m partial to ginger tea this season, myself) and hunker down for whatever comes our way these next six or seven weeks (Phil and I are hoping for long winter naps).  We might also want to spend some time pondering the bigger parlor trick, that of Phil’s mysterious longevity.  Who knows, maybe something in the wood that the woodchuck chucked?

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