So there we were, stuck at my folks’.
Nothing but my mom’s awesome cooking to live on until who knows when.
You can stop holding your breath now, we lived.
The chickens lived too. My sister braved the snow drifts to take them fresh water and feed and relieve them of those burdensome eggs.
Hey, we had to have some omelets, okay?
Don’t make me explain the inner workings of a small chicken operation with only one rooster. They weren’t that upset, okay? Let it go. They did.
The poor critters, they were stuck too. Their stuck was colder than ours though.
I’m glad I’m not a chicken.
Wait, I’m pretty sure in one of my last posts I said I was a chicken. Weird.
Maybe I’m suffering a full identity crisis brought on by the lack of sunshine and an overflow of children with too much energy to be cooped-up. See, cooped-up, there I go again with the chicken metaphors. I got to get out more.
“Is that a warm spot by the fire I see?“
"Is that a cinnamon roll I smell?“
“please let me in!“
Uh-oh, I’m hearing doggie voices now…
“It’s okay, Raimie, focus on something else. Focus on the decorations. That's it."
"Repeat after me, It’s a wonderful life. It’s a wonderful life.”
“It’s a wonder-- What in the world is that? Signs of alien life? Aaaaaaaaaa!"
That‘s it! I‘m headed South!”
I think 'constant photo opportunities' is at the top of my list of what I like about Winter.
Nothing more to like.
I vote we cut winter down to a couple weeks,
Get our fill of the good stuff and then, “All done! Spring is here!”
What do you mean the plants and stuff need Winter?
It’s me or the plants, people…
Okay, forget that last bit.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll let you know.
I generally do.
A Little Flake-y in NE