On Saturday Big Daddy Brent and I were supposed to go to the Big City and go out with friends and have a jolly holiday time. Instead it snowed a foot and the wind started blowing and the high Sunday was -2. Yes, that's right the high was minus 2.
Here was my front yard on Saturday:
Oh yeah, I can hear you. "What is that even a picture of? What is that?" That, my friends, is the place where the grass used to be. Now it is a big pile of picturesque Christmas snow. That will be fine and lovely as long as it's Christmas time, but if it's all the same to you, it can melt and be spring December 31. What if spring is late?!
So anyway, my Big Trip to the Big City turned out to be dinner in town and a trip to the grocery store. It wasn't the same. No, it wasn't . . . but I have to say, one of the things I appreciate about BD Brent is that he is optimistic in an understated way. He's not all Pollyanna about it. He's not all "Hooray! Rah! Rah! Go team!" He does, however, manage to turn a depressing night of emergency food shopping into a real date, and that is a jolly holiday no matter what time of year it is.
Drive into a dark spring-less city whose blizzard-torn stadium dome is nearing collapse or click your sorel boot heels together and know that there is no place like home in Lake Wobegone on a night like that! You chose well and Mr Husband sounds like a wonderful companion. Have a good week ML.
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