One fish, two fish, bread fish, Hugh fish

The title is a reference to dinner, of course. I made the Foil-Baked Trout with Granary Bread Croutons from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Year cookbook. I did it completely "by the book," even to the point of following his suggestion to serve the fish with wilted spinach and new potatoes. Excellent.

Today it snowed. Let me say that again: It snowed. I was out running errands and I kept seeing these little flakes flying around. Because I am a northerner, my Spidey sense said "snow," but somehow I couldn't quite believe it. Sure, it was wool-sweater weather, but snow? The wind was howling, but snow?! We don't DO snow here. Maybe there was a fire somewhere and this flurrying stuff was ash.

It was snow. A piece of it fluttered onto my windshield and melted. Ash doesn't do that.

As soon as I saw that melting flake, I started cussing. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! I did not move to Georgia so that I could run my errands in the snow. On the bright side, the snow didn't stick around here (although it did in the northern mountains). On the not-so-bright side, a hard freeze is forecast for tonight. I am not impressed.

Snowflakes aren't the only things I've been seeing out of the corner of my eye. Lately I've noticed a lot of signs.

Outside a church: JESUS LOVES YOU MORE THAN ANYONE. (Do they mean "Jesus loves you more than he loves anyone else," or "Jesus loves you more than anyone else does"? It's kind of important to know which one. I favor "A.")

On a marquee in front of the Hardee's: MONSTER THINKBURGER. (Think twice about eating it.)

On a signboard with letters dropping off, in front of a gas station in Union Point: WIN 20 GALLONS OF GA. (I already carry 20 gallons of Georgia with me at all times. I think I always will.)