The last five days have been, well, rather intense. In the words of Wayne off of Letterkenny, If a man asks you for help, ya help him. In my case it was a couple of friends and the help was an intervention of a most emotional and difficult sort.
Now, I am not going to go into details, but holy wow, the last few days required a lot of Kat-credits. I am getting better, but after the first couple emotional roller coaster days let's just say the ol' thyroid gland was starting to get a bit feisty. I love to help people, but I'm also learning lessons about how to help people without causing harm to myself. Good times.
Anyway, the situation is now resolved, at least my part in it, and this morning brought a scene of homestead familiarity, Well, at least on my homestead that is.
Last night when I arrived home from game night, there were four teenagers cooking pizza. A snow storm also rolled in during the evening and the kids were all especially festive as they slung pepperonis and regaled me with their recent snow run trip to the local quarry. Apparently they thought they would take C's Suzuki SUV (affectionately known as the $h!tter) out on the ice that had formed on top of the forty-two inches of rain that we got this past week in the gravel pit.
The $h!tter didn't sink! I was told by C in a tone of absolute pride.
Indeed, The USS $h!tter did not sink, it just broke through the ice and kerplunked into the three feet of water underneath. Kids.
I knew they had been having a grand time anyway by the slalom tracks peppering my driveway, not that I blame them. I mean, who doesn't like to drift a vehicle around a ninety degree turn that is covered in fresh powder.
Right now the kids are out in my north pasture with a sled tied behind our son's 1995 Toyota Tacoma pickup. The PAV is whipping teenagers around in the chore sled in a manner most festive. I am sure that activity wasn't included in the truck's original sales brochure.
Me, I am just sipping coffee with the hubs next to a cozy fire, randomly chuckling at the kid's antics, and babysitting a beautiful pupper. Finn is a German Shepherd Husky boi with the sweetest old man face and an even sweeter disposition. When I walked into the house last night he jumped right into my arms. He is not a small dog, I hugged him anyway.
And now I need to get up and embrace the hug of my snow pants as the snow has abated. There's floof to be shoveled, and since I brought home a gigantic box of donuts last night for the heathens, I am going to go play in the snow rather than cook breakfast for that herd. Frittering away one's day playing in the snow is the best way to spend a Sunday me thinks.
That and randomly giggling about how the girls woke C up with a wet snowball to the face...
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's not being pulled behind a small pickup in a sled anytime soon iPhone.