Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

It was about 1:15 when I was idly staring out the office window and noticed that if I wished hard enough, I could actually see teeny, tiny snowflakes silhouetted against the dark evergreens.  "How nice," I thought to myself, "snow flurries.  It will probably come to nothing though, since there was no mention of snow in the forecast."

By 2:00, there were big fat fluffy flakes falling.  "How pretty," I thought to myself, "proper snowfall.  But it won't stick and should turn to rain, since there was nothing mentioned in the forecast."

At 2:15, I got a call from D who suggested that I consider coming home soon, since it was starting to "pitch" (the British word for "sticking" snow) where we live.  "How inconvenient," I thought to myself, "a snowstorm.  But I'm supposed to visit a dear friend for dinner tonight."

At 2:30, I cancelled with my friend and bailed on work - and this is what it looked like as I walked towards my car:

Note to Santa - no waffling

Given a choice, a Belgian waffle is my preferred weekend breakfast every time.  I've never been one for those decadent Sunday brunch buffets because I'm happiest with a thick crispy waffle, a little butter and some genuine maple syrup.  A little side note - have you noticed the price of real maple syrup these days?  Its cost per fluid ounce is comparable to certain prescription cough medicines that have a street value!  Not that I'd know or anything.

Anywhoo...

Shimmy... not!

I decided to inject a little variety into my workout routine and DVR'd a couple of "All Star Workout" shows.  Yesterday, I tried one based on belly dancing.  "How hard could it be?" I thought to myself.

How hard, indeed! Thank goodness this was in the privacy of my own home.  I can grapevine step, I can hip circle, I can shoulder shimmy.  But let me be clear, doing any more than one of those things at a time?  It ain't flocking happening.  I'll leave that to folks who can both rub their tummy and pat their head... or even walk and chew gum.  As if I needed a reminder that I slept in the day the Lord was bestowing physical coordination.

FLOCKING Snow!

During the holiday season I see this sign every day outside a nursery advertising Christmas trees.  Each time D and I drive by, one of us will exclaim "FLOCKING snow!"  I'm not sure why, but it completely tickles me.  I've decided that "flocking" will become my new not-quite-naughty epithet.

Did the Grinch REALLY steal Christmas?

I'm almost ashamed of my cynicism.  Every year, and I do mean every year, I see a story on the news about a family being broken into and all their Chrismas presents being stolen.  There are always tears and then a list of presents stolen that I frankly find unbelievable.

Because it's there

This is a somber post, but the topic has been on my mind all week.  Three people were lost last weekend climbing on Mount Hood; one perished and two are missing and presumed dead.  They went out for a 13-hour round-trip to the summit and didn't make it back.  It's a tragic story, one that has been repeated over 140 times before. 

Sometimes stories of loss insinuate themselves into my psyche and my mind keeps returning to them, worrying at it like a tongue in the groove left after a tooth is lost.  My heart is breaking for the loved ones left to ponder the fate of these three vibrant young people, well equipped and experienced climbers all, lost in their prime.  I find it disturbing that this mountain, of which I have so many fond memories, exerts a lure that can be deadly.

O Christmas Tree

My absolute favorite part of Christmas traditions is, by far, the tree. That scene in Christmas Vacation where Chevy Chase comes home with the BEST CHRISTMAS TREE ever, cuts the baling twine and the tree literally explodes open to fill the whole room and break the windows… that slays me every time because if I had my way, that’s how it would be at my house.

Counting one's blessings: A SAAB story

I love sporty, beautiful, tight performance cars (especially European makes).  For many years, I had my own subscription to Car & Driver until I decided that the auto lust engendered by exposure to all those lovely automobiles would be deadly to my decision to stay debt free.  My beloved little Saab went for a full brake transplant on Thursday of last week.  Should be a one-day job, but it's been 10 so far.  First they couldn't find parts because, haven't you heard, GM is putting Saab into liquidation.  Then the parts they did find got stuck in a snowstorm in the midwest. Then they reassembled the brake system and the master cylinder failed, or so they say.  Funny, there wasn't a brake pressure problem when I brought it in. That part was over-nighted and the car reassembled for delivery yesterday and the brake system still won't pressurize, so now they have to keep it for the weekend to start troubleshooting on Monday.