Geez-o-Pete.... it's back down to what we are just referring to as "butt-ass" cold here.
And it snowed. A lot. And I know I should complain about the cold and the snow and streaking out to the shop in my slippers to get more butter from the freezer but, damn, it is so beautiful.
And this weekend I will curse the plow and the fireball (fuel poured directly in the carburetor) in the garage and the exhaust fumes... but for right now.... gorgeous.
The kids think they are dying because I told them it had to be 15 above to take Bugsy sledding. They think she is a wimp. With her rice bag heater and double snowsuits and vaseline on the cheeks..... well.... she kinda is a wimp. She sits so solomn in her little sled and waits.... then giggles like a tiny demented maniac when we start racing around.... it is a fun workout.
Hot had an, um, experience yesterday morning. On the way to town this car was following him really close. Now, um, it is very icy and all the laws of physics still apply.... even if you have 4-wheel drive. This particular driver (who shall remain nameless...) has been observed driving rather, ahem, rapidly on our road before. Hot starts down the hill.... this car starts to PASS him. Seriously. Curvy hill. Fairly steep. Very icy. No visibility. Double yellow line. Lots of knocked over fence posts on either side from cars hitting them. Dead carion deer at the bottom of the hill and a pack of white-tails on the side of the road just to make it more interesting. And the fate of this driver? The ditch.
It would be wrong for me to laugh right now.
Because Karma is a bitch.
3 comments:
Just because it's four wheel drive, doesn't mean it's four wheel stop.
People just don't drive the way they should when it's icy and snowy. It's as if there was a mind wipe.
Do Tuff & Sweet have Bugsy going in circles and figure 8's?
Is there a place for them to ice skate at the homestead? Darling daughter learned at 5, racing down a icy dirt road ... about the same age she figured out the dog would pull her in the sled.
Hubster broke the handle of the best (aka only) snow shovel yesterday, so we are sweeping snow. He's grumbling because the solar installers are coming Thursday and he's sure the snow won't be melted off the new garage roof where our solar panels will placed (if they don't slip and drop them). Can you tell I'm the pessimist in the family?
The following-too-closely thing happens to me every day on the way into town. I have a steep, nasty, sharp-cornered hill to descend, and every morning without fail some boner follows me too closely for the conditions. Choices for said boner are A) hit oncoming semi, or B) drive off into the BLM "recreation area" some odd feet below the guard rails.
They often choose option C) which entails riding my (kid-carrying) ass, lots of slamming the steering wheel with their mittened boner hands, followed by my brake tapping and the flash of a lovely peace sign as they pass me the instant that line turns dashed.
I find that the peace sign enrages boner-types more than the middle finger alone.
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