Last week, when I posted the retrospective on all the houses I inhabited while growing up, more than one person commented on the seemingly remarkable fact that I had lived in Portland in all those houses. I never really thought about that. I guess we did move around a bit. And now I live in a house of my own that we've been in it 38 years and counting. What's that all about? Did I learn a lesson moving around into all those homes? I did mention that change is not easy for me to 'conquer'. Then or now, still. In all those years in all those houses though, I have never kept an ice shack on or near Sebago Lake, as seen here. Grew up a city boy. Now that city guy is all about country, but you won't find me ever huddled in one of these shack in January with temperatures huddling in the teens. No siree, Bub! btw: Your shack ends up in the drink in spring? You haul it out; you pay the fine. That would not be good for my wallet, or my self-esteem for that matter. Not a big fishing fan. Don't embrace the cold either. Lethal combination... for me.