6 o'clock and allllll's wellllllllll!

All told, I guess we got about 12 inches of snow. The plow has not yet been through, and we are assuming that the Sons will not have school in the morning.

As you may have noticed from previous snowstorms, I tend to get antsy when I know I can't leave the house. "Snowed In" is about the most terrifying phrase in the language, to me. Combine it with feeling supremely under-the-weather, and I am not at all ready for prime time. I'm glad to just be keeping up with the messes in the house. My big goal for the evening is to dust the den, and take a shower, so I am no longer in the bathrobe I've been wearing for the past 2 days.

THERE IS FROSTING ON THE BATHROBE. THAT IS WHERE I AM, RIGHT NOW. I look homeless.

However.

Today, I moaned on Facebook about being out of printer paper and diet Coke. And a dear friend (dearer by the second) offered to bring me some, if my street was clear enough for a delivery.

I called her, to tell her she didn't need to do that (but of course if she was out, I would gladly hand her some cash for it) and it turned out she was snurfling much worse than I. She is dog-sick. And yet she wanted to give me something simple, just to make me feel good.

Damn, I feel loved right now. Thanks, Brick.

I hate snow Sofa King much

It has been falling since last night, and at this point we have maybe 7 inches or so, and it is still falling as hard as ever. We are snowed in, no question. The Sons are hopeful that there will be no school, come Monday. Me, I am just hoping that at some point Spring will come, and with it the Thaw, and we can put this bull behind us.

If you are reading this from some northern clime, and laughing at my piteous mewling about a lousy 7 inches of fluffy snow, I hear ya. I know. I am pathetic, and you are my hero. What can I say? I was born in DC. We do not do blizzards well at all. The only "snow" I want is a "snow cone", in the dead of summer.

Sick and tired of being sick and tired

I have The Cough. It is lasting forever, just like it does with everyone else, so I have no room to complain. But it is disconcerting that my children and all my friends, upon seeing me, first say, "You look EXHAUSTED." I mean, I am, but that doesn't mean I want to LOOK it.

Yesterday was Hubby's birthday. We celebrated with cake, crab legs, and the memory of throwing huge chunks of money at the plumber so we could have 2 functional bathrooms. Less than festive, but he is loved, even in a low-key manner, and even though he has a wife whose idea of a great afternoon is running all the errands and catching a quick catnap in the Giant parking lot so she can drive home without causing a major traffic accident. Yes, I napped 10 minutes from home. I was between stops, and could barely lift my head. "Ah, now I can go grocery shopping!" --how the mighty have fallen.

On a slightly odd note: Jake's skin rash remains, and the vet is sure it is an allergic reaction of some sort, and although it is highly possible he is allergic to the dog, he may also need high-protein, low-allergen food. So I bought some. The label reads, "With Chicken/Avec Poulet"...and I just wonder, do ALL cats speak French? Is that for their benefit? Would not surprise me all that much.

The Smart Alternative!

Energy Club: The Smart Alternative, w/ Zero Trans Fats!
Yeah, that would be the giant bag of gumballs, or the candy orange slices, or the cream-centered caramels. Why anyone would choose oatmeal for breakfast instead of that, I have no idea. Lack of commitment to a healthy lifestyle, I guess.

Unexpected Proof that I Am Old

"What time are you picking me up for the orthodontist?"

"A quarter to 9. Your appointment's at 9."

"Does anyone SAY that? 'A quarter to'? What is that, like 8:45? Why don't you just say '8:45'?"

Fiddlin' Writer confirms that her sons also ride her about "a quarter to" and "a quarter after". Apparently you have to have a mental visual of an analog clock to have that make sense.

Sonny, bring me my pills. And hush, I don't want to miss my stories.

Never thought I'd say this, but

Yes We Can!

Winter is for the birds

And yet, here it is, and we deal with it. How do we deal with it? We crank the tuneage. Like so:

We're such good parents

...because we've never even considered giving the Sons jailhouse tattoos. Thank you, PattyJo Marsh, for setting the bar delightfully low.

Do I smell "blog"?

Son #3, our chattiest Son, has started to attend an Assemblies of God church. If the weather is horrid and he will accept it, I give him a ride.

No one in our family is all that familiar w/AoG, so it is a bit of a mystery. But Son #3 is slowly explaining it all.

"Dad thinks they speak in tongues, but no one has done that. And what is speaking in tongues, anyway? Do they just say stuff? I say stuff all the time. What's so special about that?"

He waited a few seconds, let that soak in. Because, yeah, he talks pretty much. And then he leaned forward and asked.

"Do I smell Blog?"