A snippet of Christmas

I know. It's strange to look back instead of forward, but some of my photos have to go somewhere lest these library trips spent organizing them go to waste. 

Our stockings and the Leons, haha

I blame some Girlfriends. You know who you are.

Nobody makes sugar cookies like Thing One. Still. Forever.

After a small misreading of dates on my part, we did all end up in church clothes and at the appropriate service at the right building at the right time and even on the right day.

 

However, as Aragorn declares, "that is not this day," as you can tell by the number of people in pajamas. My apologies to my more polished family members; I just didn't have the fight left in me to get everyone back into them when they weren't thrilled about their sacrifice in the first place. Can you hear me rolling my eyes? I hope so.

Anyway, we hope that you have managed to take some of the sparkle and magic and love (and not just the pounds) of the holidays into the New Year with you. 

If this year is hard, or you feel like you're at a breaking point, please let us know. We'd love to help. We have room, ears to listen and shoulders to lean on. 

And a new cookie jar. Thanks, Grandmama and PaPa! The Honey Bear knocked our cookie bear off the counter and polished off all the freshly made almond crescents. All of them. The cookie bear had been given to us by Lisa's Grammy way back during our baby shower for the firstborn. Got that kid into adulthood, so well done, good and faithful servant, but man, we will miss you and your distinctive opening sounds that were a dead giveway of sneakage to mom ears. Out with the old and in with the new. RIP Cookie Bear 2003-2022.

 

Too many hexagons

 I feel like this is already the fifty bajillionth time I've done a wintry post. I know those of you who don't usually see snow have already experienced your own this winter. As much as I wish it would just go snow on the polar bears who really want the stuff, it appears that's not going to happen. So I'm trying to find the beauty in the winter wonderland. 

And then the storm showed up. Those are car headlights, approaching from the east.

 Aftermath. First thing, gotta clear a path so the dogs aren't tracking all the hexagons inside.

Uh oh. It's not gonna be great if there are already drifts inside the garage...

Impossible to tell how much we actually got thanks to our wind. One of our cars was next to naked while the one beside it looked sculpted. You can see the dunes and drifts. This is standing just outside the garage door and looking north-ish. You can see where the wind has almost scoured it clear only to deposit it all a foot away.

                                                   

                       Both Dada AND the mailbox down...

We shoveled a bunch by hand because we needed the exercise and because it was sunny, but we were thrilled when the tractor was warmed up enough to do the majority of it. I don't know that we've ever had icebergs to the height that we have now. While we shoveled, the drifts kept calving so I was making snarky remarks about glaciers not disappearing, merely relocating. If you're looking for them, head to Ohio. And feel free to take them back where they belong at the end of your field trip.

I'd say we got maybe two more inches today, so I'm starting to feel like Forrest Gump as he relates towards the end of his story, "and I met the President of the United States... again." Someday the snow will stop and maybe our piles will disappear around April Fool's Day. Now I'm hearing Aragorn swearing, "but that is not this day." 

Be safe out there. Hang in there, Texas. Just hang in there.

"Second winter"

I put a funny I'd seen on Facebook onto my wall there which had Aragorn and some Hobbits commenting on "second winter" in a parody of their "second breakfast" conversation. While I realize some of you got way, way more snow than you anticipated for spring break, we've had flurries for a few days. 

The kids pulled a Neva on the way home from karate last night. If you're unfamiliar, Neva is one of their cousins who possesses a very determined nature. She was about two years old when she demanded her father get out of "her" spot:

Get out!

Can you use your manners, Neva?

*pause*

May I have a ... GET OUT... please?

=)

Last night the flurries were flying again, so the kids channeled their inner Neva and roared, "STOOOOOP SNOOOOOOOWING... please."

They thought it was hilarious. Now I had flurries AND loud kids in the car. Super.

Anyway, this is what our sugar dusting looked like: