SNOW

Yesterday we had an impromptu snow day. Well, say impromptu, but that is the wrong word for it because we knew it was coming. I am still marveling at the weather forecasters here being almost right all of the time when they predict the weather, which really does not happen at all in the UK or Channel Islands. least it never used to when I lived there. But both Patrick and I worked from home. If you could call it that.

His office was officially closed, so everyone was trying to log in remotely and that just messed up his connection and I had to entertain our daughter who had a case of the MUMS and wouldn't let me get a chuffin' thing done. She really doesn't like Patrick right now. I think he is taking it personally too. I mean, how could you not take it personally when for almost a week now your daughter will not hug you or kiss you, but will occasionally psych you out and pretend like she is going to but then goes "NO! MUMMY!" and then runs over and gives your wife a big hug and a kiss and goes "ahhhhhhh!" all whilst looking smug?

Patrick went out to shovel the snow from the car and as gone for a long time. I started to feel rather guilty.

This is my first time living in "The City", if you can call it that, and there being a big snow storm. We missed the last one as we were in the UK, and last winter, we were in nice rural NH. City snow is A BIG PAIN IN THE ARSE. It gets slushy and black pretty quickly, thanks to overzealous snow ploughs going up and down the streets of Boston and its surrounding areas not to mention the copious amounts of salt and weird blue chips that get scattered around to help melt the ice that appears. Which never does, and you just slip around a bit. Oh and remember that pot hole that you nearly always break you neck on? Well that is somewhere over there, in your walking path under a carefully disguised mixture of ice lumps and grey moosh. Good luck and I hope you have health insurance.

Here in Somerville if they think there is some snowmageddeon about to happen they declare a snow emergency and everyone has to move their cars. Where we are, you can only park on even sides of the street or in specially allocated municipal lots. Once they declare the EMERGENCY, you have 4 hours to panic and frantically move your vehicle or you will be towed etc. And then when the emergency is called off, another 4 hours to move it again.

Patrick parked on the even side of the the street, and thanks to the person that kindly ploughed the path (you get in trouble if you don't plough your paths too... and rightfully so! England take note) there was a huge bank on one side of the car. Then as he was doing the street side, I watched the fucking street plough guy come past and completely mess up all the work that Patrick had just done. Thanks for getting it off the street plough guy, but all you just did then was push it into my husband.

In lovely rural NH you only need to shovel your path and your driveway. Minimal interference from Joe Public and much less black and grey slush. It was a team effort in NH. Patrick and his Dad would do the drive, and I would do my part (seemingly much against the trend of the family) and shovel the deck and the path and then put ice melt on the deck because it would turn into a rink as water fell off the roof. It was a much simpler time.

And hey! I have some new followers! I am almost 100% sure it is because of my new button that Coralene kindly pimped out for me.

Because I already received some strange emails about about it, I should say that my button isn't a dig at anymore, more so at myself.

I don't have anything to sell, anything to teach you and I don't have anything fun to look at and I don't like talking about my kid, because I think it is boring... and if I think it is boring, then I am pretty sure that you would be bored looking at pictures of my kid. (Even though she is probably much more awesome than most of your kids.)

So all that being said, I don't have that much to offer anyone other than ramblings and nonsense and the occasional post about chocolate and sweets. But if you want to read what I write, knock yourself out. I don't mind!