We have two to four feet of snow in our driveway right now—that’s not the official amount, but the wind patterns around here whip everything right up to our garage door: leaves, snow, stray potato chip bags, squirrels. . .
I’d love to spend the day writing, but the kids are in here with us and they’ve had enough tv for now. So we’re about to have a balloonball tournament and a go at cleaning a couple of bedrooms. The tantrums will pass the time. . .
Of course, I’ve run out of diet Pepsi yesterday, so it may very well become the Shining in here after a while.
Anyone else underneath the storm?
Earful of Cider 