negligent...

Yes, Yes I am. Tough luck, Charlie. But why would I waste my time blogging when I could be spending my time with family--including one very awesome little niece?
I mean, I love you guys--but she's just so darn cute. Here we are on the day after Thanksgiving, getting our Christmas trees. Yes, we are rocking crooked hats. I think it's going to be the new style. Forget tilting the baseball cap--that's all been done before. We're going after the winter-hat tilt! And thumbless mittens. I wasn't quite cool enough for that one, so I left it to Avery to carry the trend.

shhh! it's a secret!

Shh! Quiet! Come here--closer, closer. Want to know a secret? Do you? Come under the table with me, and I'll tell you. Oops--watch your head. Shh. Ready?

Deep down inside, I'm a romantic. Gasp! Shock!

It's true. I may not cry during movies, or particularly like babies, or send 'touching' greeting cards, but I'm vulnerable to romance nonetheless.

This very morning, as I backed the car out of my garage at 7:39, I was positively floored. The sun wasn't quite up yet, so everything was that silvery gray color--except for the white, white snow. I'd say six fresh inches. As my little Cavalier pushed its way down my long gravel driveway, the snow was deep enough to crest over my hood, sending silvery white waves of flakes up before me. It was lovely.

And then I noticed the trees.

The lower half of my driveway is wooded on both sides, and this morning it was a fairy land. Every branch of every tree was coating with several inches of snow, all white and graceful and perfectly still.

I had to stop the car. My heart practically pounded with the force of all that beauty. I guess I'm not always so tough, after all.

evil pothole season

Well, I can tell that we're over halfway through winter over here in western Mich. How, you may ask?

Because half of the roads 'round my house have become pothole death traps. Between the manic-depressive freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw of the weather (with its accompanying snow-rain-snow-ice-snow) and the harshly scraping snowplows, hardly a clear patch of pavement remains, especially on older, previously patched pavement. Like the road I take to and from work.

When the roads are clear (a rarity), I can do a little fancy evasive maneuvering, but when they are coated in some combination of snow, slush, and ice, I dare not carom too wildly. Hitting a pothole is still better than spinning out and hitting oncoming traffic. Even if I do occasionally get surprised by a bad patch where none was before, where my teeth practically rattle and I pray over my suspension and tires.

It's an odd feeling when I realize that I'm glad for that rare variety of packed-down snow on the road that at least partially fills the potholes and turns that large-caliber machine gun feeling into a series of dull thumps.

If only they could pave in the winter. Alas! Well, it will be orange barrel season soon enough, and then we can all complain about that. Until then, Happy February! Only two more months of winter.

first snow

Well, here it is. The first "real" snowfall of the year. We had some lovely soft "snow globe" snow yesterday, but no real accumulation. This morning, however, the world was covered in a blanket of white. About three inches, I should think. I turned on the radio to listen to the ridiculous quantity of accidents that had already happened by 7:15, and when it came my turn to brave the white stuff, I grandma-drove all the way to work. (This is an appropriate time to insert how grateful I am to have a garage. It makes me so happy!)

It always bemuses and frustrates me that people are so stupid when the drive on the first snow. Yes, you have to get used to it again. Hello! So drive slowly and cautiously until you get used to it. I'm always amazed how many people totally seem to forget what driving on snow requires--until they slide into a light pole or someone else's rear end. Yes, it was slippery last March, and its slippery again this November. Yes, you need to double your stopping distance.

And no, they don't plow my road. I was wondering about that. The first quarter mile out of my driveway is gravel--and mostly uphill. That last big hill before I reached the pavement--yeah, I was spinning out a little. I can't wait to see what happens when we get "real" amounts of snow. At least things were better once I got to pavement. That's where the plow stopped, see. Right at the edge. I don't know why. Perhaps they can't plow gravel. I've never asked.

So I think I need some chains for my tires. The little Cavalier is plucky, but not indefatigable. At least, I've noted, there is no big ditch for me to slide into. Even if I can't make it up the hill, I probably won't get stuck. I say "probably" to not jinx myself with overconfidence. Perhaps I shall finally get a big bag of cheap kitty litter for the trunk...and one of those emergency shovels.

Or a Land Rover. A Land Rover would work quite nicely. Or a woolly mammoth. I want to ride a woolly mammoth to work. Hm. But where would I park him?