What's that you say?

You’ll have to repeat that as my head is currently buried beneath 17 inches of snow and I've been picking icicles out of my nose all morning. My mailbox, my healthy baby apple trees, my basement windows and my sanity are buried too. As the gusts of Northern Revenge and droplets of freezing rain pelted against my bedroom window, I could feel the last shred of reason and composure oozing out of my head. I can’t be housebound again with these psychotic energetic monsters children! Not that this weather comes as an earth-shattering shocker given my current geological location, but still, it’s only mid-December. Most years I remember wondering if Christmas would come and go upon a frozen, brown landscape. This year however, I’m cringing just thinking about how skinny my budget is about to become because of fuel costs for my house, vehicles and the freaking snow blower. If I searched hard enough, I betcha I could find an obscure tax deduction for snow removal costs.



Try as I might though, I can’t imagine living anywhere other than New England. I’ve had 32 years of experience with nor’easters, oppressive humidity, ice storms, mud seasons (wicked awesome if you know what I’m talking about), black flies, moose (rather constantly watching for moose so I don’t end up a pancake in my own car) and overall pernickety weather. What, you aren’t enjoying the weather? Wait five minutes.

But this morning I awoke to this in my driveway:

What?? I’m totally not lying.

Okay, I actually dragged my pajama-clad butt to the coffee machine and looked out the window to see this in my driveway:

But honestly, would you rather have a cuddly polar bear sitting on your doorstep just waiting for you to give him a fishy and wittle scwatch behind his eaws? Or a cranky man wearing a snowmobile helmet while swearing at the snow and complaining that he hasn’t had enough coffee yet?