Snow has finally come to mudville. There was an actual snow day on Thursday, which are surprisingly rare here, not because we don't get snow, but because our road crews are so good. Usually, when they close school it's for ice. However, this was the rare condition of it starting to snow at about 5:30 AM and snowing earnestly that means that trying to clean up for the busses would just be an exercise in futility.
Oh, and then it dumped another 7" on Saturday. Suffice it to say, my car has not been up the driveway since Wednesday.

The dog digs the snow, and is always wanting to go out these days. It's so cute, she jut starts poinging around in the snow with big leaping bounds, since it's deep enough that she kind of has to leap to move. In general, though, she's been mellowing out some, which is great. And I suspect it's not just a side effect of all the dashing through the snow.

In between snowstorms, managed to get out to the thrift store with the sister. Hadn't been there in a long time, and I had forgotten how much amusement can be derived from it. Oh, and I found shoes. I never find shoes, and all of a sudden I have two pairs that fit comfortably, each for less than $5. And now I have tall boots. Because I did, in fact, need to be three inches taller. I figured out what it is about boots with big heels that amuses me so: the make me feel like a superhero. By day a mild mannered tomboy schoolteacher - then she puts on her boots and she is...well, she has a supernatural attraction to shiny things and is taller than even more people now. And can strut.

Also, all of a sudden I find that my greatest fantasy is a bowl of oatmeal. Not a sexual fantasy (I don't really want to think about how you incorporate oatmeal there), it's just that the oatmeal outranks the sexual.
I lie in bed at night and think of...oatmeal. A really good bowl of oatmeal, to be sure, but still...
Has my subconscious just given up on me here? Should I be worried?

On another completely unrelated note, Keren Ann's album Not Going Anywhere is fabulous, and has been keeping me good company lately. Sounds kind of like a languid jazzy folk à la Françoise Hardy, Suzanne Vega and Beth Orton.

And, for good measure, I also post the car mix of the week. It also makes for good company.
( Me and M'ia, in the car, with the scraper. )

Stay tuned for our next installment, which includes selected readings from the Nanny Ogg cookbook Jen found for me, and hopefully not too much anxiety. I think the subconscious and I are going to have to have a frank discussion about reconciling optimism and fatalism...but mostly about shutting up...hmm, maybe that explains the oatmeal...