What Kind of Life?

Recently I had the pleasure of driving from Irvine, California to Orem, Utah.

D2 sat in the front seat and kept me company the entire way home. For the first 4 hours from Irvine to Las Vegas this meant non-stop chatter. At one point, she asked,

"Mom, do you ski with sticks or without?"

"Neither," I replied.

"What?" she asked. My little snow bunny was certain she had heard me incorrectly. Growing up in the state with unarguably the best snow on earth, she has been in countless snowboarding lessons and enjoyed many hours at a local ski resort.

I, however, was raised in Iowa. Although the Hawkeye state is known for many great things, powdery ski slopes is not one of them.

"Neither," I repeated. "I've never been skiing."

"Snowboarding?" she asked.

"No," I confirmed.

"No skiing either?" she double checked.

"No. No skiing. No snowboarding."

Shaking her head in disappointment, she sympathized,

"What kind of life have you lived?"

Give it To Me Straight: Snow Holds Barred

We've been enjoying a series of snowstorms the past few weeks. Before the onslaught began, my snow-loving D2 overheard DH talking in the kitchen.

"We are getting a snow storm tonight, another two days after that, and one more on the weekend." He explained.

D2 instantly ran out of her bedroom, down the hallway, into the kitchen, and slid her socks along the wood floor to come to a screeching halt right in front of her dad.

"Talk to me, weatherman!" she invited with a big grin.

The Prettiest Sight to See

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Which can be very exciting if you're just getting over that stuffed feeling from eating too much Thanksgiving turkey and you're singing Christmas carols while hanging decorations on the the tree. But when you are planning Easter Egg hunts and the Christmas lights have been packed away in the basement for three months, it's not so thrilling.

Winter storms in the spring, are not uncommon where we live, but ten days ago, while the kids were running through the sprinklers and getting sunburned laying out on beach towels on the driveway, I took that as a good sign to finally clean out the mudroom for the season. Dragging snowboards, sleds, snow boots, hats, and mittens to the basement, I made room for the increasing clutter of flip flops, sunscreen, bottles of bubbles, kites and visors. In hindsight, I should have known such an act would send a red alert to Mother Nature.

This morning, after bundling the children up in their beach towels, I drove them to school in 4-wheel drive and marvelled at our blessed winter storm. Luckily, the holiday decorations are not buried too deep in the basement clutter. Now, if only I could decide what to ask Santa to bring me for Christmas.