Last week, our house got 14 inches of snow. It was surreal. Grandma and Mom were very excited by the snow, and as it kept piling up outside my windows, I started to enjoy it as well. (I'm not very fond of cold, wet weather, but it is kinda pretty for a day or so). Grandma went out and measured how much snow was on our patio furniture, and around noon, it was 7 inches. My snow joy was somewhat abated by the fact that I had to get the ladder and a broom to free the satellite dish from winter's icy clutches (all of said snow promptly landed upon my head as I scraped it off, but a girl has to have TV). The boys enjoyed watching the snow fall through the window, and the dogs refused to go outside (wise animals).
Aunt Faith was more than happy to go outside and play in the snow. Luckily the neighborhood kids were all out playing so I didn't have to go school her in a snowball fight. This is Faith duded up in Bob's ski gloves and boots. I made her go outside for a picture and pushed her down in the snow (unfortunately those pictures are on my phone and not readily available for this post). I think it might have been my favorite snow moment. The next day, after the snow had stopped falling, Grandma insisted that the boys get their pictures made in the snow. I wasn't too keen on it, but looking at the pictures, I'm happy she said we should.
Ryan wonders "Mom, where are my shoes?" (tragically, he doesn't own any).
Michael checking out the white stuff and wondering when we can go back inside.
James finds a winter time playmate who would rather lick him than frolic about in the snow.
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