Holy Mary Mother of Snow

Our weather forecast for tomorrow and Wednesday has been predicting some snow for a week or so now. Every day the amount has changed, ranging from less than an inch to 6-12 inches Tuesday, with more snow of varying amounts on Wednesday. There has been a Winter Storm Watch for the past few days.

This morning when I checked, the Winter Storm Watch had been upgraded to a Winter Storm Warning and our forecast is now calling for 12+ (but how much plus?) tomorrow, with 5-8 inches on Wednesday. Plus wind with gusts up to 35 miles per hour.

I think it's safe to say Cubby and Charlie won't have any school on Wednesday. And A. is in for a LOT of shoveling.

Hello, Old Friend

My last trip to the big grocery store in the big village was not a total success. A. had come with me to go to urgent care, thanks to a raging case of strep throat, so he was sitting in the car wilting while I took Jack in with me and raced through the store as fast as I could. In my haste, I grabbed a container of raisins instead of prunes* and a giant container of unsalted peanuts instead of a giant container of cashews.

Damn. What am I gonna do with all those unsalted peanuts?

Oh wait. I KNOW.

Hello, homemade peanut butter, my old friend and enemy to my jeans.

I stopped making peanut butter awhile back because it was something I could eat too much of, and I was the only one who ate it anyway. A. categorically refused it, and Cubby wasn't such a fan. So I figured they could eat the Crisco-like crap from the store, and I would be less tempted by that because it's not as appealing to me.

But now I have a pint of homemade peanut butter with maple syrup sitting on my counter, and a hell of lot more peanuts in the jar. At least Jack will eat it.

Eat up, son. Your jeans never fit for longer than a few months, anyway.

* Don't give me that look. Prunes are delicious. Would it make you feel better if I called them dried plums?

** Remember when cashews were incredibly expensive? Now they're as cheap and ubiquitous as peanuts. I read the back of a container of them and realized it's because they're now apparently all grown in developing countries. Huh. Nut economics mirror world economics, I suppose.

Ah, Memories

This unseasonable thaw that has melted all the snow has given me an opportunity to revisit a not-cherished childhood memory: The annual spring poop scooping.

This was a ritual from my Alaska years. We got a dog there, and in a place where it snows frequently and doesn't melt, then the dog's daily deposits just get covered over and hide there until all the snow melts.

It makes for an ugly scene in the spring.

This was not something we had to worry about at Blackrock, because the dogs went pretty far from the house for their toilet times. But here . . . well, old dog Mia is not about to venture too far off the shoveled driveway when there's two feet of snow on the ground. I can't blame her. I don't really relish the idea of a frozen bidet, either.

The end result of this, however, is dog-doo landmines all over the front of the house. So, although I don't much enjoy scooping up and discarding all those accumulated deposits, I did it today. Because you know what I enjoy even less? Cleaning dog poop out of the deep treads of winter boots.

Jack was very helpful during this process. He acted as spotter, standing guard and announcing, "One poo!" until I came over with the shovel for removal.

There were a lot of "one poos" around. But I think I managed to clear most of them. There is now a significantly reduced likelihood of poopy boots to be cleaned. So it was worth it. I guess.

Almost Famous

I was at the village library today picking up some held books when a lady I know only by sight came in and exclaimed, "Hey, I saw your kids in the paper!"

Say what?

Turns out that yesterday when I was with Charlie at the pediatrician and A. was with the other two kids at the library in the Big Village (conveniently across the street from the pediatrician's office), a reporter from the paper took a picture of Cubby and Jack playing in the kids' room. It was on the front page today. The caption noted, "Their father sat nearby, keeping an eye on them while reading a book on Adirondack deer hunting."

Sounds about right.

A. even had a quote in the caption--a thrilling, "They have a good collection."--but he neglected to mention this whole thing to me, so I was very surprised to see Cubby and Jack on the front page of the paper.

Of course, the reporter spelled our last name wrong, even though A. actually wrote it down for him. Dutch names are too confounding up here in French-Canadian country, I guess.

Good thing I went to the library today. Otherwise I would have missed our family's five minutes of fame entirely.

Unappetizing

I was planning on making meatloaf for dinner tonight. I made tuna noodle casserole last night, which I think means that I am a 1960's housewife, right? Except my tuna noodle casserole didn't involve any cream of anything soup from a can, and I had to use 100% corn pasta instead of regular gluten-laden noodles. It was still good, though.

Anyway. Meatloaf.

Meatloaf requires ground beef. The ground beef is in the big freezer downstairs. Also in the big freezer downstairs, unfortunately directly in front of the ground beef, is a garbage bag full of raccoon skins awaiting tanning*.

We had ham steaks instead. Because I could reach those without hauling out the raccoons.

Deer hearts in the car and raccoon skins in the freezer. This is life in the woodchuck lane.

* A. gets them tanned and uses the tanned hides to make hats and mittens for the kids. Fur mittens are the only thing that will always keep their hands warm. So I acknowledge the raccoons' utility, but I begrudge them freezer space nonetheless. 

Tease

Perhaps you have noticed that all the people who live in the normally frozen wastelands of the United States at this time of year are jumping online to proclaim from the rooftops the unseasonably warm weather? You can add me to that list.

Even here, in the Great White North, it is crazy, CRAZY warm. When we left for Arizona on February 18, it was 24 degrees and there were two feet of snow on the ground. When we got back the following Friday, the snow was almost gone and it was warmer at our house than at my parents' house in Tucson.

Say what?

The day after we got home, it was so warm I actually opened up the windows in the house.

It was a nice re-entry for the children, who I think were relieved they could go out to play without trussing themselves up like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Nobody likes that, especially me, because I still have to do much of the trussing for them.

It's supposed to be below zero this weekend, with several inches of snow on Monday, so it's a temporary reprieve. But it is a reminder that spring is on the way.

These goobers are ready*.

* In case the saguaro cacti in the background don't give it away, this photo was taken on the roof of my parents' house in Tucson. One of my dad's favorite stories from our visit was when he took the kids up there to look at the mountains and Cubby said,"Wow, there sure are a lot of houses here." You must understand that this is one of the least-populated neighborhoods in the entire Tucson metro area. But I guess to a country mouse from the northwoods, it looks crowded.

Jiggity Jig

Yes, we are indeed home again, thank the deities of traveling with small children.

Yesterday's journey back was . . . well, it wasn't the best day I've ever had. Could've been worse, though, in that we did actually make it back, about 11 p.m. Which means that everyone is now still sleeping at 7:20 a.m. Alleluia. Let's hope that continues for a good long time.

Anyway.

We had a wonderful time in Tucson. There was much family, much sun (though it was blessedly rainy and cool the first couple days we were there, which was all that saved my northwoods children from melting immediately), and even some camping. Not by me, thankfully, though I understand A., Cubby, and Charlie enjoyed it immensely.

Maybe I'll post some pictures later. For right now, I have some northwoods air to breathe. And a lot of laundry to do. Peace out.