RICK Z AND THE SHACK NASTY'S

No, I?m not talking about a punk rock band. It?s that condition during late January that my sweet husband has come to, on his days off, walking from window to window, looking out at the snow and muttering under his breath or flopping down in his chair and examining his eyelids from the insides. He?s deliriously happy when the mail comes; bringing little poufy packages filled with fluffy hooky things.