Sliding down a hill
on southern makeshift bobsled.
Joyous squeals are mine.

I was finally able to enjoy a little bit of the unTexas-like winter weather that we have been having today. After working most of the day, I made an executive decision that I had done all I could do and it was time to have some fun.

After all, we only get to slide down snow covered hills like that once every twenty or years or so in my neck of the planet.

I’ve almost made it an entire month and tonight – I got nuthin’.

I think the ice storm is truly affecting my words putting together story making stuff from the area that thinks stuff up I usually have when there isn’t so much freaking cold air not melting anything going on!

I have always believed that Alaska is my soul’s safe haven – ready and waiting should I never truly need to escape this life and trade it in for another one. I was born and raised in Texas but Alaska has been that mythical place of fantasy for me.

However, with the amount of wimping out I am feeling after a mere three full days of frigid temps (below 20) and solid white patches of peril everywhere  – I am wondering what the hell could I have been thinking all these years? I wouldn’t last twenty minutes up in Alaska! (Don’t even get me started on what kind of women they elect for gubernatorial representation!)

I had the opportunity to chill (ok, seriously only caught that pun in the editing process, so I am leaving it) at home today – something I am always complaining I never have enough of – and instead, I worked, did dishes, laundry and worried about whether my kids were warm enough (when I would remember they were outside.)

I could have written this blog entry earlier when the house was quiet, I could have exercised and not eaten like a total fool with the cabin jitters after only three hours.

Coulda, shoulda, didna…

Arf.