(Insert clever post name here)

Last night Danny called to say he was on his way home, finally. It was a 9:45 p.m. and normally he's home by 5 p.m. He was working late on a new task assigned to him. I told him, "Bring Tato Skins." So he stopped by the Shoppette, left the car running, and ran in to get me some chips. Isn't he sweet? Well, here in the Frozen North it is absolutely commonplace to leave your car running when you go shopping in the dead of winter. Last night when it was approximately negative 20 degrees with windchill, it was necessary.

As many of you know, Danny's degrees are in Criminal Justice. He is not the type to leave a car running unattended. He does not leave the door unlocked to the house-- ever. There have only been a handful of times in the last four years living here that he left the upstairs windows open at night in the summer. Danny is a safe, conscientious guy. He reads the news!

So, out of repeated habit in his last 16 years of driving and taking care of a vehicle, he locked the car doors. But he didn't realize it until he had bought the chips and was on the way out. He called to tell me his predicament.

At this point, I was giving Ham a late night snack and the other kids were fast asleep. All was quiet in the house. I had just written a song for Danny and was playing back the recording. The dryer was tumbling diapers. The floors were swept. The carpet was vacuumed. No snail trails on the sofa. Clean undies in the drawers. I was feeling pretty good.

What to do? Wake up the older three kids? Bundle them in cold-weather gear? Load them in a van that’s colder than my deep-freeze? Hurry out and save my Danny?

to be continued . . . here.