Yeppers.

The first one of the school year is always the sweetest, even without the element of surprise. Of course, an envious Cabana Boy tried to ruin it for me by calling from his workplace to declare my district's Snowday declaration a "gift," on account of the roads not being "all that bad." Some of you might recall his last year's feeble attempts to play killjoy by assigning ::ha!:: me some special Snowday household duties.

Although, just between you and me and what remains of my other 17 faithful readers, this storm received more news hype than Brittny's last butt wax. And even though there was nasty ice coming down right around school commute time, we got no where near the 37,000 feet of snowfall that was predicted.

A Perfect Day After The Perfect Storm
After The Cakers stopped crying about missing yet another day of her beloved kindergarten,* we helped ourselves to the perfect Snowday breakfast. With whipped cream, of course. A growing girl needs her dairy.



By 8:30 Cakers was snow-packaged-to-go and spent the rest of the morning slogging in the freshly fallen slush with neighbor kids. I spent a small portion of that time trying to crank out the blog post that's been rolling around the brain bowl all week. ::This isn't that post, either.::

Instead of a cooking up a post, I fried my eyeballs on this new obsession. ::Please don't go there yet! You will not return. I promise.::

After a deliciously Perfect Snowday lunch of Shop Teacher's Finger in a Towel...



...Cakers was invited to play at a friend's house. I commenced to get ahead on some long overdue housework beat my personal best score of 45,000 on that Damn Bubble game, which I followed with 45 minutes of cardio, to the rhythm of the beating of the brows on People's Court and Judge Judy. I next took about a gazillion pictures of snow and berries outside my bedroom window.



On this Perfect Snowday, I did NOT bathe, wash, rub or rinse any dish, tool, countertop, piece of furniture or body part of any body.

Nor did I knit.

I'm not ready to talk about that Nor Knitting part. I will soon, via a much longer, whinier and sadder tale. ::Is sadder a word?:: A fuckumentary, if you will.

I hope to get to that post later this weekend. After that I will return to my previously scheduled Life-Without-Cabana-Boy-And-It-Still-Really-Sucks-Ass-But-There-Are-People-With-Worse-Problems-Than-Living-in-a-No-Cabana-Boy-Service-Zone-With-No-Time-to-Blog-But-Just-Enough-Time-to-Fuck-Up-Just-About-Everything-Else-I-Come-Into-Contact-With-Including-Small-Knits-Chits-And-Furry-Woodland-Creatures.

Anyway.

I really just wanted to say that The Perfect Snowday doesn't blow.


*She'll cry again when I remind her of this on her 2nd Snow Day, which I'm guessing will be some time around the year 2013. In the six years Cam attended this district, he only had 2 snowdays. This district has no busing, thus no fear of the snow.

Labels: eye candy Friday