One of my stranger quirks is an odd fascination with Ground Hog Day. As far back as I can remember, I couldn't wait to find out if the ground hog saw his shadow. When I was in that preschool age, my mother liked to listen to the radio in the morning. Unlike TV, you can listen to it whilst doing other tasks such as preparing your children's breakfast. So, as soon as I got up, I'd hunt down mom and ask if the groundhog saw his shadow. And he usually had.
For some reason, people confuse hedgehogs with groundhogs. I never did. Hedgehogs live in England and do not burrow underground. They are immortalized by the Monty Python sketch about the gangster Dinsdale Piranha who was forever being hunted by a giant hedgehog. Alas, ground hogs are not that big and don't know anyone named Dinsdale.
But we don't celebrate Ground Hog Day the way we do other great holidays like Halloween or Valentine's Day. I also discovered that girls liked Valentines Day, but weren't too wild about Ground Hog Day. So, to change that I came up with the concept of eating sausage on Ground Hog Day. Why sausage? Because sausage is made out of GROUND HOG! Get it? My brother once told me I should eat Ground Hogs instead of sausage. Yuk. I like sausage better. So, I've devoted my time trying to persuade people to eat sausage every February 2 in honor of our furry fuzzy burrowing friends who can predict the weather. It has not been easy. I equate it much ;like Linus, Charlie Brown's only friend. Linus spends Halloween sitting in a pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin. At least I don't have to sit in a pumpkin patch. All I have to do is try and get people to eat sausage. I even once wrote to the Jimmy Dean people--the ones who make sausage, not the dead singer, trying to get them on board. I never heard from them. They may have thought I was some sort of kook.