I don't even know what that title means. Anyway, onward.
- Yesterday and today the high temperature was close to 50. Fif-ty. Enough snow melted that I was able to see parts of my flower beds, and yes, I did put my face close enough to the dirt to smell it. I also found myself searching for green shoots, even though I know the ground is still frozen and that a few days of above-freezing temperatures is not enough to compel flowers to begin their growth cycle, and that if I were to see plants this early in the season, it would in fact be a bad thing, overall. Whatever. I'm getting desperate. Plus we're in a blizzard warning all day tomorrow and tomorrow night. I will never see my flowers again.
- It would appear that our children have no volume control, but only when we're in public, and only when they're saying semi-mortifying things. At church Sunday morning, I had just picked Adelaide up from her class, and we were in the common area of the children's section, which is just crawling with, well, children, when Adelaide announced to me that "I know why you don't like me singing that song 'I'm sixty and I know it.'" Oh, no no no. "It's because it actually goes 'I'M SEXY'!" See, every once in a while they play a pop music station on Adelaide's school bus, so one day last year Adelaide began chanting "I'm sexy and I know it" after school, I freaked out a little bit, contacted a couple people in the school district, had a talk with Adelaide about how it was inappropriate, then forgot about it. I didn't even know she was actually saying "I'm sixty and I know it" until she very clearly and very loudly declared so at church. Thirty seconds later Caedmon, who had been staring at a young father sporting a really quite impressive moustache began to hold forth in a carrying voice about said facial hair: "LOOK AT THAT GUY'S MOUSTACHE. DO YOU SEE IT MOMMY? MOMMY? THAT GUY. HE HAS A MOUSTACHE. A BIG HUGE MOUSTACHE. RIGHT THERE MOMMY. DO YOU SEE THE MOUSTACHE?" That evening we had decided to eat supper in an actual restaurant where they serve you food and you don't have to clean up afterward (aren't restaurants amazing?). Caedmon asked Derek what was in the yellow bottle next to the ketchup. I didn't hear Derek's answer, but I did hear Caedmon incredulously repeat "MOUSE TURDS?" As did everyone with a 100 foot radius. You're welcome, adoring public. Enjoy your food.
- Monday morning it snowed around three inches, on top of however many inches we still had on the ground. That afternoon the temp climbed up to around 40 (40 degrees! It was like summer around here!), plus Derek didn't have to work, so we all went to a nearby park to sled and throw snow at each other. I can't really call it a snowball fight because the only person in this family who can a) throw a snowball more than ten feet and additionally b) throw with any kind of accuracy is Derek, so it was really more Derek hitting the rest of us with snowballs while we all flailed around. I took half a dozen pictures that all look pretty much like this one:
Guess where that snowball ended up? The same place the other thirty did: splatted somewhere on Adelaide's person.