Still Here

Have no fear. We are still alive here at Chez Sara. We survived. Sort of.

The kids ended up having four days off school last week and then had a two hour delay on Monday. After six solid days of togetherness, we were all ready for a break from each other. And my house? Well, to say that it stinks would be putting it mildly.

Oh, it's not that I didn't clean or anything. I did. But then approximately 2.5 seconds after any sort of cleaning, it was undone by someone. At least when I clean when they are in school, I can enjoy the clean for a few hours before it's undone. We didn't spend the entire time indoors, either. The kids got out and slid and skated and played. Then they came in and, despite beautiful new cubbies, managed to make my mudroom look like it barfed coats and hats and boots. Then they whined when I made them pick their stuff up and put it all away because they were tired and hungry and wahhh, I'm so mean!

So yeah. My house smells a bit like a ski lodge after a long day of people being on the slopes. Except without the charm and beautiful scenery. And right now it's too cold to do any sort of airing out. So I am cleaning and disinfecting and doing my best to get rid of the smell of sweat.
Kinda makes you want to come over for a visit, doesn't it?

While the kids managed to slip and slide and stay upright, I managed to fall. Three different times. In a distance of twenty linear feet. The only thing that was harmed was my dignity, although I was sore all over the next day. Falling could totally be considered a form of extreme exercise.

You see, we had another snowfall on Saturday. We got about 3.5 inches on top of the ice. Now the thing about this, is it gives you a rather false sense of security. When you are on ice, you move slowly and gingerly because you think "Hey, I'm on ice. I need to be careful." But when you are on snow, well, you expect to have traction, so you move a little faster. And when that snow is on top of ice that is harder than cement, well, moving faster is sheer stupidity. And y'all, I am, apparently, stupid.

I was making my way to one of the bird feeders to knock off the snow build up and my feet went right out from under me. Picture how a cartoon character looks when he slips on a banana peel. Not only did my feet go out from under me, I'm pretty sure that at one point, my body was jack-knifed and my feet were level with my head. I think I may have flailed a bit as well. I landed, my head bounced and my sunglasses flew off my head, cartwheeling through the air and landing behind me. When I pulled them out of the snow, they had about an inch of snow stuck to both sides of the lenses. And I must have knocked the sense out of myself, because I tried to put them on. Brilliant.

At that point I noticed something glinting in the snow and upon closer inspection realized that my keys had flown out of my pocket and landed several feet away. On my way to pick them up, I went down again, this time straight on my considerable rear section. I think I said "uuuummmph" when I landed. But that might just be what I thought. I think what really came out was a swear word. Or seven.

I got up again, deciding that the birds would just have to knock off their own stupid snow. As I ambled toward the house, I noticed the two spots of my previous falls and realized that the impressions left in the snow were not so much snow angel but rather snow bull moose. And it was about this point that I went down for the third time. This time I went sideways and landed on my right wrist. It popped and I had a moment of panic where I thought: "OH MY GOSH! I've broken my right wrist. That's it. Life as we know it is over. My house will go to hell in a handbasket and I will go insane from not being able to use my right hand. That's my DRINKING HAND!"

And then I moved my wrist and realized that I was just fine. Whew! Another crisis averted!

Suddenly the back door opened and my beloved called "Are you all right?"

"Did you see me fall?" I asked.

"No, but you have snow all down your back from your head to your feet," he said. "So I guess you weren't making snow angels."

"Nope. Snow bull moose," I muttered. "I make those best."

This is all to say that we are just fine and awaiting the temperature rise that is supposed to come on Sunday. So, I guess you don't need to worry about sending booze. But if you have a little sunshine that you could share, this sun-deprived mama could use some.