Chaos, Complete and Utter

As most of you know, we spent the week of Thanksgiving in Washington with Hubband's parents.  I have so many stories to tell about the journey: three kids, two adults, one Prius, a thousand miles, sixteen hours in the car over two days.  Visit for six days and repeat.  This sound like it would make an interesting story, doesn't it?  Not to mention my detailed reviews of every McDonald's with an indoor Playland between Sacramento and the Canadian border.  Ah, good times.

Unfortunately, I do not have time to tell these tales now.  We got home Tuesday night, opened the back on the Prius, and my life exploded all over my living room.  While we were away, we were invaded by ants.  The the floor around the toilet in the master bathroom (laminate over concrete) developed a squishing noise.  I hope this is not related to the tinkling noise the toilet has been making for over a year.  Jimmy the plumber can not see me for a month.  So he suggested I call Pedro the plumber.  Note to self: Call Pedro the plumber.

 By Wednesday morning, I had not even begun to dig my way out, but we had no food in the house, of course, so I had to run to the market (with all three kids).  Then there was a previously scheduled trip to the pediatrician (with all three kids).  And, shots.  For all three kids.  They acted like wild animals just let out of their cages.  Cate is suffering from Grandma withdrawal, which means she wants to be held all the time.  And, Jonah is off school, and bored.  Our little yard does not hold as much adventure as Grandpa's farm.

We should be back to normal by the weekend.  But, that is not going to happen either.  Hubband and I are leaving Friday afternoon for our church's couples retreat.  A friend of mine (Love you, Marissa) is going to stay here and watch the kids for us. 

You never know how dirty your house is until you imagine a friend living in it for three days.  So, on top of the laundry (twelve loads, by my estimation), and the unpacking, and the packing, I have to get out the sand blaster to get the crud off the underside of the dining room table and the backs of the chairs, detail the botanical experiment that is the shower, change the sheets (Make that thirteen loads of laundry.), and mop the floors.  Do you suppose the kids will want to eat between Friday and Sunday afternoons?  Ugh.  Add meal planning to my list.

So you see, I really do have tales to tell.  But I don't have time to do them justice.  I don't know when, exactly, I will be back, but knowing me, it won't be too long.  Please promise to miss me while I am gone.

Chicken Coop in Snow

I am including this picture, taken at Grandma and Grandpa's farm, because I find it soothing.  And, breathe.

Snow is...

It snowed here this week. The last time that happened was 1976. This may help you understand my interesting relationship with snow. Below is my (somewhat tongue and cheek) description of what snow is to me.

...SURPRISING

Snow, when first experienced, is surprising.

Snow fall is silent.

Fluffy white snow is not fluffy. It is cold and wet. That "snow angel" thing could cause pneumonia.

...WORK

Snow is kind of a pain in the hiney.

In places where it snows a lot, people have to plug their cars in. Not new fangled electric cars. Just their boring old Dodge Dart or whatever. To keep it warm. Like an electric blanket. So it won't freeze and crack. The guy who invented this should be rich.

Snow buries things. You park your car, you go to bed, it snows, you wake up and where your car used to be there is now a heap of snow. You have to dig it out. With a shovel. But not until you dig a path from your front door to the street. And, I'm guessing it is cold out there. Good times.

...SCARY

Snow is scary.

I have cousins who lost everything in Hurricane Katrina, but returned to New Orleans. We suggested that they re-locate out here in California, but they declined. They didn't want to live anywhere there were earthquakes. Too dangerous. Huh? I have a similar feeling about snow.

Several years ago, in the mountains around here, (where I will only go in July and August), a man got lost hunting in the snow. He was found safe and sound, but he couldn't get his truck back until spring. Spring? Really?

A friend of mine who used to live in Missouri tells stories of driving, or rather sliding, the wrong way down the interstate into the path of a big rig because of snow and ice. People live like this? No thank you.

And these are just the stories without tragic endings. I am still haunted by several took-the-scenic-route-and-got-caught-in-a-freak-snow-storm stories. They did not end so well. I will leave it at that.

...INSIDIOUS

Snow is insidious.

Unlike other forces of nature, snow has some how passed itself off as beautiful and nostalgic. No one dreams of a Charred Christmas. Or sings, "Let it flood, let it flood, let it flood." Volcanic ash that stays on your nose and eye lashes? Not romantic. But, snow, obnoxious snow, has managed to charm it's way into our collective consciousness. Well...your collective consciousness. I'm not fooled.

You can keep the real stuff. I will be dreaming of a White Christmas, just like the ones I used to watch on TV. Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, singing, dancing, fake snow as far as the eye can see. I have the DVD now, which is even better. White Christmas; no commercials.

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