Saturday morning our Village of Oak Creek was fabricked with the satin of joined snowflakes. I have not seen snow falling all that many times in my life–spending most of my life in the Valley of the Sun, I was 21 years old the first time I saw snow falling–so it is new enough to me to seem miraculous.

I owe my knowledge of the word (or words) Uffda (or Uff Da) to my sweet former wife, a small-town gal from Minnesota. During our 23 years of marriage, which ended a year ago last December, I also learned to say “come here once” instead of “come here, please” and “well, you’re welcome” instead of “you’re welcome.” Uffda usually follows some kind of accident (like dropping the fried egg on the floor) or burdensomeness (like working a double shift)–at least that was my inference. I am not bilingual in Minnesotan; but I often say “Uffda” just after getting my old bones off the couch after sitting there for more than an hour. Comes in handy, and trips off the tongue!,