Snow

There is snow at my house.  Lots and lots of snow.  Theoretically, this shouldn't surprise me seeing as I live in the mountains in the state where they once held the Winter Olympics.  In fact, one of the event sites from the Olympic Games is a ten minute drive from my house.   Still, there is an obscene amount of the cold, white stuff.

Ok fine.  I didn't take that picture.  But you're not gonna get a picture of the snow at my house, because it's too stinking cold for me to go out and take a picture of it!

But I'm not going to blog about snow and complain about it like all those other wimps.  Nope.  Not going to blog about how I woke up at an ungodly hour yesterday morning to find snow everywhere and my husband having just come in from shoveling.  Now normally, the husband out shoveling would be a good thing.  Until you add that to your eight year old standing in front of the fridge announcing "Mom.  Mom!  MOM!!!  We have no milk.  And no bread.  And no eggs.  And no waffles."   And then my husband started laughing and said, "Well, you can finish shoveling or you can go to the store."  I tried to convince them that ramen noodles were an acceptable and healthy breakfast.  No go.  Similar result when I suggested scooping peanut butter out of the jar.  (Hey, it has protein, right?)

So I'm not going to blog about how I had to drive through the Antarctic to the store in my pajamas before 7am so that my family could have breakfast.  And I'm definitely not going to talk about how I almost threw my back out and got frostbite on four fingers in the two minutes it took me to load two ginormous bags of ice melt in the van.  And its a total secret that the snow that got in my van yesterday when I was loading said bags of ice melt is still in my van, unmelted.

And I would never dream of venting about how much I hate all the clothes that go with winter and kids.  In the summer, all you have to do is find two flip flops.  They don't even have to match. But in the winter you have socks, snow boots, snow pants, gloves, coats, scarves, and hats.  Do you realize how many possible combinations and possibilities there are for "MOM!  I can't find my _______!"  in the winter?  And how long it takes to get the heathens children dressed to go outside? But I'm not going to tell you how many times in the past 36 hours I've had to say "No snowboots on the carpet!" or "Wherever you put them is where they are.  If you would take care of your things you would know where to find them!"  (Sigh.  There's nothing like repeating things your mom said verbatim to make you feel old.)

Nope.  Not blogging about any of that.  As far as you all are concerned, there's nothing I like better than driving my van down the luge run known as Parley's Canyon at 7am for a violin lesson. 

Let it snow.  Or not.  (Preferably not...)