The Miller Report 01012026

 Miller's Mysteries Blog

 Greetings and Welcome! 
Greetings and welcome to Miller’s Mysteries Blog, where winter has officially parked itself in Southington and refuses to move. Snowflakes drift by like they’re casing the neighborhood, while the cats watch from the window, judging everyone. 

 

The neighbor’s goats occasionally peer in, clearly convinced they’ve cracked the case of indoor heating. Soon enough, we’ll be braving the cold for Calendar House shows, AMC movies, and dinners that feel like a reward for wearing boots. Until then, grab a warm seat and enjoy the mystery.

 • Across my Desk!!
  
NASA's first crewed mission toward the moon in more than half a century moved closer to liftoff recently, as the Artemis 2 astronauts completed a full launch day dress rehearsal in Florida.

I-95 through Connecticut. That's not a highway, that's an obstacle course designed by Satan himself. 

How do you handle negative book reviews?
Read them once, sip my coffee, and remind myself that even Moby-Dick has one-star reviews. Then I look for anything useful, ignore the rest, and resist the urge to challenge the reviewer to a dramatic duel at dawn. Finally, I go back to writing—because the best revenge is another book.

WTBY new year's Eve fireworks were canceled.
“Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.” — Mark Twain

Me: "Look. A flock of cows."
Son: "Herd of cows."
Me: "Of course I've heard of cows. There's a flock of them right there."

Born on January 1, 2026, you arrive with the Sun shouting, “New Year, new me!” 🌞🎉 and a personality that insists on fresh starts before anyone’s finished their leftovers. Mercury is clearly in Optimism, which explains why you believe every resolution is totally realistic… this time. Meanwhile, the Moon lounges in Leftover Cake, guaranteeing charm, ambition, and an unshakable love of celebrations. 🎂✨


Today’s forecast calls for cold temperatures, icy roads, and a newly discovered asteroid that probably isn’t aimed at Connecticut ☄️❄️. Scientists assure us the strange glow in the sky is “just space stuff.” Dress warmly and panic responsibly.


  
 • Math of the Week

1
The Snowy Commute (Systems of Equations)
Bob and Michele leave home at the same time during a snowstorm. Bob drives at 30 mph while Michele, taking a plowed route, drives at 40 mph but travels 10 more miles. If they arrive at school at the same time after 1 hour, how far does Bob travel, and how far does Michele travel?

2
Ice Rink Geometry (Area & Perimeter)
Bob and Michele are helping design a temporary outdoor ice rink shaped like a rectangle. The rink’s length is 12 meters longer than its width, and the perimeter is 104 meters. What are the dimensions of the rink?

3
Sledding Hill Quadratic (Projectile Motion)
Bob launches a snowball from the top of a hill, and its height (in meters) after t seconds is given by
h(t)=−5t2+20t+2

How long does it take for the snowball to hit the ground, and what is its maximum height?

4
Hot Chocolate Supply (Linear Functions)
Michele starts with 18 packets of hot chocolate after a winter shopping trip. Each snow day, Bob and Michele use 3 packets while studying math together. Write a linear equation for the number of packets remaining after d snow days and determine how many days pass before they run out.

5
Frozen Lake Safety (Inequalities)
Bob and Michele want to ice skate on a frozen lake. Safety guidelines say the ice thickness t (in inches) must satisfy

2t+4≥14
2t+4≥14.
Solve the inequality and explain what minimum ice thickness makes skating safe.



 • Now, This Week's Exciting Story

Farmhouse

The snow started politely, the way it always does in Southington—light flakes, a sense of false optimism, and Rick saying, “This doesn’t look that bad.” Twenty minutes later, the back roads disagreed, icing over with the enthusiasm of a vendetta, while Molly clutched the crockpot like it was a sacred relic. The chili sloshed gently, heroic and determined, as if aware it was the only thing standing between them and starvation.

Rick leaned forward over the steering wheel, squinting into the swirling white. “If we survive this,” he said, “I’m taking the main road forever.” Molly laughed and checked the crockpot lid. “Relax. The chili has been simmering since noon—it’s earned this adventure.” The car slid slightly to the left, then corrected itself, as though reconsidering its life choices.

When they finally spotted the farmhouse, it appeared out of the snow like a myth—dark windows, a long driveway, and drifts piled high enough to qualify as furniture. Rick parked with the confidence of a man who had no idea if they’d be able to leave later. Molly stepped out, boots crunching, the cold biting her cheeks in a way that felt rude and personal. Somewhere nearby, something creaked that was not the house.

Inside, the farmhouse was cold but intact, smelling faintly of old wood and winter patience. Molly set the crockpot on the counter and plugged it in with ceremonial care. “There,” she said. “Civilization restored.” Rick shrugged off his coat and glanced at the window, where snow tapped insistently like it wanted to come in and chat.

They both froze when they heard a thump from upstairs. Rick raised an eyebrow. “Probably the house settling,” he offered. Molly crossed her arms. “Houses settle quietly. That sounded… opinionated.” The chili bubbled reassuringly, clearly unconcerned with supernatural activity.

Rick grabbed a flashlight, because that’s what people do in situations they’ve only prepared for emotionally. Halfway up the stairs, the thumping turned into a shuffle, followed by a sneeze. Molly burst out laughing. A snow-covered cat emerged, offended and damp, clearly judging them for interrupting its solitude.

Dinner was served by candlelight anyway, because the power flickered just enough to encourage romance without fully committing to chaos. They sat at the old farmhouse table, bowls of chili steaming, cheeks flushed from cold and relief. “You know,” Rick said, “this might be the most dangerous meal we’ve ever earned.” Molly reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Totally worth it.”

Outside, the storm howled louder, snow pressing against the farmhouse like it wanted an invitation. Inside, they leaned closer, warmth building between them, laughter bouncing off the walls. The cat curled up near the heater, the chili kept bubbling, and whatever else the night had planned would have to wait. In Southington, Connecticut, winter might close in—but tonight, Molly and Rick had each other, and that was more than enough.


Rick disappeared into the mudroom and returned like a victorious lumberjack, arms stacked with a warm, respectable load of firewood. Snow dusted his shoulders, and he grinned as if he’d just completed a heroic side quest. “Behold,” he announced, “heat.” Molly applauded from the counter, already filling the kettle, because nothing pairs with survival quite like coffee.

The woodstove crackled to life with immediate enthusiasm, flames stretching and popping like they’d been waiting all day for attention. Heat rolled slowly into the room, chasing the chill out of the corners and into submission. Molly poured the coffee—dark, strong, and merciful—and the smell alone felt like a second blanket. They clinked mugs in a quiet toast to bad roads, good timing, and chili that refused to give up.

Soon the farmhouse felt alive again, warmed not just by fire but by sound—logs settling, coffee slurped, the occasional satisfied sigh. Rick stretched his legs toward the stove, boots steaming gently. “If we’re snowed in,” he said casually, “I’m prepared to be extremely brave about it.” Molly smirked. “You mean extremely comfortable.”

They curled up on the couch with mugs in hand, shoulders touching, the storm rattling harmlessly outside. The windows glowed with firelight, the cat repositioned itself for maximum warmth, and the world beyond the farmhouse might as well have been another planet. Coffee refills happened without discussion, because some things don’t need words.

By the time the logs burned low and the kettle was empty, the farmhouse felt like it had chosen them. Snow could pile up all it wanted, roads could disappear entirely—it didn’t matter. With the woodstove humming, coffee close at hand, and the storm safely locked outside, Molly and Rick settled in, warm and certain that this was exactly where they were meant to be.


As the fire settled into a steady, comforting rhythm, Molly grabbed a thick quilt from the back of the couch and gave it a practiced snap. They tucked themselves in beneath it, knees bumping, shoulders pressed close, the kind of easy closeness that didn’t need choreography. Outside, the wind rattled the windows again, but under the blankets everything felt smaller, quieter, safer.

Rick produced a battered cribbage board from his bag like a magician revealing a final trick. “Emergency provisions,” he said proudly. Molly raised an eyebrow. “You planned for cards but not tire chains?” He grinned. “I prioritize morale.”

They dealt slowly, hands brushing now and then, each accidental touch lingering just a beat longer than necessary. Molly counted her points out loud with mock seriousness, while Rick accused her of cheating in a tone that suggested admiration more than suspicion. The cat supervised from the arm of the couch, tail flicking whenever someone scored a perfect hand.

The stove popped softly, the blankets warmed, and the numbers on the board crept forward one peg at a time. Between hands, they sipped the last of the coffee, now mellow and comforting, like the night itself. Molly leaned her head against Rick’s shoulder, and he shifted just enough to make it easier.

By the end of the game, the score hardly mattered. The storm kept circling the farmhouse, but inside there was only firelight, shared laughter, and the quiet pleasure of being exactly where you were supposed to be. Wrapped in blankets, surrounded by warmth, Molly and Rick let the night win—slowly, kindly, and together.



The cribbage board slipped to the floor sometime after the last peg moved, neither of them bothering to reach for it. The fire hummed low and steady, and the blankets had molded themselves around them like they belonged there. Molly traced lazy circles on Rick’s sleeve, not thinking about anything in particular, just enjoying the simple fact that the world had slowed down enough to notice.

Rick tilted his head and pressed a gentle kiss into Molly’s hair, the kind that carried no urgency—only certainty. “You know,” he said quietly, “if we’re snowed in another day, I might have to cook.” Molly laughed softly. “Don’t threaten me like that.” She shifted closer anyway, proving she trusted him far more than his culinary skills.

The wind outside softened, the storm losing interest now that it had made its point. Inside, the farmhouse felt smaller and warmer, as if the walls themselves had leaned in. They listened to the fire, the settling beams, the quiet breathing that came from being fully at ease.

Eventually, Molly yawned, unguarded and honest. Rick adjusted the blankets, tucking them around her with deliberate care. “Stay,” she murmured, already half asleep. He did.

As the fire burned down to embers, the night wrapped around them gently. Snow could keep falling, roads could stay lost, tomorrow could wait. In that quiet farmhouse in Southington, the world had narrowed to warmth, closeness, and the steady comfort of not being alone.



===========SHADOW
On a camping trip in the Litchfield Hills, a group of friends are startled awake by strange sounds emanating from deep within the forest. Peering through the darkness, they catch glimpses of yellow eyes gleaming back at them, shifting in and out of their limited view. As they try to escape, the eyes multiply, and panic sets in, only to reveal they’ve become prey in a terrifying cosmic game. Morning breaks, but only one of them returns, forever changed and whispering warnings about the horrors that lurk just beyond the trees.
    
SHADOW by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B4Z36PS3
Don’t delay.  Get your copy now and uncover the eyewitness accounts that have challenged thousands!


============SPACE TALES 2
An alien probe landed in Joe’s backyard, mistook his leaf blower for advanced technology, and flew home victorious. 🍂👾
Space Tales 2 by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FKHGKSL3
Buy a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure.


============Special Dark 
One diary, one ghost, and one detective who won’t quit — Special Dark is a pulse-pounding ride through the unknown.

SPECIAL DARK by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FX9LTS74
Grab a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure.


Visit and enjoy my Author Page 🍂📜 ♣️❤️♠️♦️
https://warlockpublishing.com/author-joseph-miller.html
📚📖📘📙📗📕📔📒📓📔📒📓📚 ✨🌙💥👣️👽️🛸🚀☁️ 🕵️‍♀️💕




============ sponsor

KelDel Creations
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090364412851

At this year’s craft fair, make sure to stroll over to Kelly’s booth—you won’t want to miss it. Her crafts have a thoughtful charm that’s hard to find anywhere else. She pours patience and passion into every piece she offers. Whether you enjoy rustic, whimsical, or elegant styles, she has something that will fit your taste. Each item is made in small batches, so everything feels special. Take your time and enjoy the details that make her work stand out. Kelly would love the chance to show you what she’s been creating.

============

 • Thanks for stopping by and sharing a little of your time here. Winter roads may be slick and winding, but moments like this remind us why the journey matters. There’s comfort in knowing a cup of hot black coffee can still steady the day. The firepit crackles nearby, doing its best work against the cold. A pot of hot soup waits, patient and forgiving. Travel safely, and come back whenever you need the warmth.



 • Please do write a comment.  You could, if you dare, ask me a question. If I like it, I'll publish it right here in Miller's Mysteries Blog!
[send to mindmyst@yahoo.com]

Until next Thursday,    
Happy January!!! 

Joe Miller ❄️

 Joe