Snow days around here. I’m talking about 16 inches, folks, which will put chilly, frostbitten hair on any chest, even those of us used to long winters. Marc has been a bit over-zealous with ye olde snowblower, though I’ve come to appreciate the fumes he now wears as a sort of rugged new scent. Perhaps he should market it, name it something like “Rustic” or “Exhaust” or “Stink, Stank, Stunk.”
Thea’s reaction to all the white stuff, unceremoniously dropped over every surface, is to point outside and say, “Uh-oh,” over and over. It’s cute and also, by the third day, depressing. I love the white, I love the sparkles, I love the long, indigo shadows lying languid on the snow. But do you know how long it takes snow this deep to melt? MONTHS. Maybe years, I don’t know.
They look a bit severe, don’t they? It’s too cold to go play in the snow (high of 11 today), so we just put on our terrorist masks and PRETEND we’re playing in snow. It’s super fun.
In the meantime, I have more leisure moments to grovel to all of you Finders Keepers people. Remember my cool photo contest for the Grand Prize-O-Rama? Well, I kept getting these messages that folks had tried sending photos but were getting rebuffed by a wimpy quota. Today, in my leisure moments, I talked with my web folks to set up a different system. In the process, I hate to say all the photos you sent WERE DELETED. Gone. Into the hither-and-yon of the Internet that no one, not even Al Gore, can explain.
I FEEL HORRIBLE. AND I PRAY YOU DIDN’T DELETE YOUR PHOTOS. If you’re still interested in entering, would you mind sending them again? I’m SO SORRY and EMBARRASSED and feeling like that teacher we all had who would point the remote toward the TV and mutter over the white noise about not being able to work the darn thing and what ever happened to slide shows?
Please forgive. Please send.
I’m off to dunk my head in snow drift. Uh-oh.