Well, well, if it isn’t snowing. Finally and Hooray! I should be careful, though, for I’m hoping for some accumulation, and though it looks like this is for certain, even if just a few mere fluffy inches of joy (now, now, you snownaysayers, you, hush, shush, I’m a Deep South Girl by birth and my childhood was completely devoid of any snow except for that one morning of three inches that melted before we could rustle up some kind of sled), it’s been a dry winter of snow sprinkles and little else for us here in the snowshadow of the Blacks, where the wind always blows and blows the snows aways. So. I’d like to throw a good fifteen snowballs at least at my husband and children, each. That’s ninety snowballs folks! Oh, wait, only three snowballs, softly, for Renee, which makes, um, less than ninety.
In other news. My computer desk is now set up in my luxurious bedroom, where I can hide away from the rest of the family, world, etc, for hours on end whilst sleeping in my delicious new pillowtop bed. Have I mentioned that before? Well, it bears mentioning again. I’ve got a cloud for a bed. And why would I want to leave Such Heaven? Truth: I now stay in bed as much as possible. And when I get my new laptop (in the future, not yet, soon, I hope), then I can lounge upon the pillowness and write about my favorite thing to write about: the laundry. Speaking of which (just a refresher, in case you forgot: I do have five children, three of which are teenagers, and blended family as we are, and while I refuse to do teenager laundry, there’s still…ahem…MOUNTAINS AND MOUNTAINS of laundry, so it’s always something I’m contending with, especially since I am a most stubborn creature and am determined not to have a dryer because a. it sucks electricity and you know they are blowing up mountains in West Virginia for my electricity, and b. when we do get our solar system up and running—before summer, I’d say, then, well, like I said, it sucks up energy. So. NO dryer for me. Which means that laundry does have a tendency to pile up here, and pile up quickly, so I am always battling it, hanging it up and folding it and putting it away, and sorting it to give away and washing it, and hanging it up, and, folding it, and–it’s pretty funny, how the chores go round and round and never FUCKING GO AWAY. anyway. Speaking of laundry, I’ve been doing two loads a day for awhile now, only I slacked off on Thursday and Friday, but I was almost to the end of the pile, might even still be, because I’ve been hanging it up inside, up in the cross ties in the loft, and it dries FAST up there, because the heat from the woodstove likes to hang out there and dry my laundry and cook my two little children so that when it’s time for bed they complain and whine and cry about how hot it is and how they can’t go to sleep, and how they are burning up and cooking and can’t make it through another night. They simply must sleep in my pillowtop bed, where it is soft and cool and comfortable. Yeah, right. Get in your bed before I lose my temper and… and…. spank you timidly on your cushy bum, you rascals.
I’m fearsome, don’t you think?
And in still other news: Renee is five! Which I’m sure means little to anyone but oh, I can hardly believe it, and I just LOVE her so so so so sossosososososososososo much! And I submitted some pomes to a fave magazine, because I’m just going to be doing that, dammit all, and I’ve been published before so it’s not entirely unrealistic, though I won’t tell you which magazine, because, well, you’d think me setting me sights to high. arrrgh.
And in still other other news: Today marks a year since I started this blogalicious thing, and while I’ve been desperately sporadic about it all, I was able to cull enough entries about my chillens and what nots from last year to make a little bookie for my Mom for Christmas, which I titled “The Circle of Us” and which I crafted by hand. So. I am happy. and blessed. and I’m smiling. and I just love being alive. even when the laundry is five miles high. so there!
p.s. this entry shows possible evidence of sugar rushedness