Last night it was shaping up to be a non-storm in these parts. We went to Geoff's parent/teacher conference at 7 and there was barely an inch of snow on the ground, just enough to make the ride slippy. Before I went to bed, we'd gotten another inch, and it had slowed down to a mere pittance.
This morning -- two more inches had fallen, and it was snowing like crazy. The forecast was that it would stop after midnight, but I guess they didn't tell the cloud over our neighborhood. It has been snowing ceaselessly throughout the morning. enough that I had to shovel the parking area (Pete left this morning early early, and I suppose he'll plow when he gets home, but I had to clear a place for Jen to park when she gets home from work and make it safe for her and the maillady to walk to the front of the house.
It's crazy out there. We've officially got a buttload of snow. And I doubted the forecast. Thing is, it is twice the amount they told us we were going to get, so I'm stoked. And so are the dogs.
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| Kinger looking at Jack (see below) and contemplating whether or not he should give chase | Jack and Kinger were belly down in the snow face to face and I wanted to take a picture -- but Jack had other ideas. |
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| And he's off. Jack's favorite thing in the world is to run around the obstacles in the yard (swingset, dog pen, garden, toys) at top speed, using the hemlock branches as cover when Kinger comes up on his ass. He's out of control! | Kinger looks kinda sad, but I know he's happy, because hims a snow dog! Isn't hims? |
 | I was trying to take Jack's picture and again, he had other plans. He's very curious when I get down low, so he came up to sniff the camera. I like how his eyes got caught for this picture... and he isn't just a huge black blob on the snow. I should have used the flash on some of these. But there are many other opportunities for more snow pictures later. Hell... it's not even winter yet kids. |
Geoff's parent teacher conference (aforementioned) was pretty good. Better than I expected. He is having problems paying attention and sitting still and doing that which is required of him at a given time. If he's asked a question with a simple answer (ie: what color is this?) he'll answer with a some nonsensical word or say something like "Five" for the answer. His teacher tested his levels of ability, and for some of it he was non-compliant, but he knows his stuff and she knows he knows... it's just a matter of getting him to answer when asked.
His literacy levels are astronomical, which is great. He was given a list of sight words, the words that the city where his school lists as "required" sight knowledge for kindergarteners by the year's end. He knew every single one, and he sounded out the one he wasn't sure of. His teacher was blown away, you could see the enthusiasm in her face as she was describing his reading. It really made me feel good too.
So it was a mixed report but no surprises. The best news is he has not been explosive in temper this year at all (yet) the way he was last year. And that makes me the happiest mom on earth.
Car Names
Geoff told me the car has a name. It's "Joy." I asked him where he came up with THAT one, because the vehicle itself does not exude such emotion nor does it inspire such in yours truly. He said "It just is."
He also calls the truck "Fluffy" instead of Quimby, it's God given Christian name... I'm not sure about that child.
I asked him if we could call this car Fluffy, thus using the name somewhere other than my truck which is anything BUT Fluffy. He told me no. It's name is Joy. End of conversation.
Last night, Jessica suggested we call it "Lame" and Doug got mad. I thought Lamemobile was pretty funny.
Doug still thinks we should call it Smokey, but that is making me gag just thinking about it. And I can't drive the car or touch it because all I will be able to think about is lungs clogged with tar.
Mr. Garfield wrote this morning with his zwei pfennig:
"I've always known if I had a Cavalier I'd have to name it "Attitude." You can use "Manners," like a visiting butler to the Wodehouse annals, I guess. Remember, I have always had an outsized fondness for $700 cars."
The comment on Wodehouse makes me get to thinking -- Stilton Cheesewright is a good name. And all the women Bertie Wooster was constantly finding himself betrothed to had funny names.
And "Attitude" is kinda funny. Something along the lines of some crazy crap from some 80s hair band would be good too. If it were a red car, "Cherry Pie" oozes false sexuality and spunkiness that this car just doesn't possess.
Your suggestions are still welcome.
I got to drive it to Geoff's school today to drop him off.
I hit my head three times getting out of the vehicle. Once when I went to preheat it, when I got to his school, and when I got home. I am not fond of this vehicle. So "Flaming Rolling Pile of Crap" is my name choice.
As long as it isn't flaming and rolling with me in it.
Yesterday I got email from Chrissy, the lovely and talented wife of CJK. I hope she doesn't mind me sharing this story, because I've been doing a LOT of thinking about it since she and I emailed back and forth on it yesterday.
She used to keep a journal and a personal homepage. She took the journal down her nephew, her sister's son, died tragically and unexpectedly in a car accident. The event left her with literally nothing to say.
She couldn't write about her thoughts/feelings about what happened to her nephew because she didn't want to hurt her sister by hashing it all out online. But she couldn't NOT write about it.
So she opted to take her journal down, but kept the personal page up so the lighter side of things could be shared.
Content on her site wasn't updated often. It was mostly holiday news, snippets of info about what was up with her and her husband, news about where they went on vacations, time they spent with friends, football... funny pictures. It was nice to read and a good way to stay up on the news of their life.
But her sister (the mother of the car accident victim) called her one night and ripped her a new bodily orifice about her website. She felt Chrissy focused the content all on her husband's family, their friends... and never made mention of their family loss.
Chrissy was stunned -- she didn't write about the accident and what happened because she didn't want to hurt her sister, but there she was getting her ass kicked for NOT writing. She had her sister's best interests in mind and at heart, and how is she thanked? With venom.
Chrissy explained to her sister her stance. The want to write but can't write and can't not write position she was in. The feelings she had. The whole shebang. Her sister eventually understood, but... Chrissy took her whole webpage down.
Can't say as I blame her. Thank God I've not been in a position with family at all where this has been an issue. But I feel bad for her... having to self-censor in this manner. All over misunderstanding.
Why do we write at all -- it is the question that I've been thinking of since yesterday afternoon. Why do I put stupid pictures of my dogs up online? Why do I tell people how Geoff's parent teacher conference went?
Doug often says things to me like "oh, are you going to write about this in your blog?" and he says blog with disdain. Truth is I might and I might not.
There are a lot of things I put up here that I'm sure he thiks is TMI, but I want to write about it. And God knows there are buckets full of crap I'd love to write about but I spare you poor bastards the suffering.
Why am I doing this? Why do any of us do this? Is it worth it to piss off a family member and find yourself having to defend decisions you make about your content? Who really cares about any of this?
Thing is, Tracy spit out a great defense of the Sicksider (Kimberly) the other day and I think she sums it up well. For me, I can walk away from writing this journal tomorrow. I could take the whole thing down and not feel like I'm getting an abortion or something. There is no sense to me of that strong a connectivity between me and what I write... but others, I understand their love and passion for the words they share.
The thing that bothers me most about what Chrissy went through with her sister is her sister's attitude.
Demanding that someone write about a specific story or situation, or demanding a specific anything be shared with the world is unfair to a writer. Getting angry with them because they do or don't is just about as out of line as you can get.
I could never demand that Amy write all about when she was in the folk duo "Amy Malkoff and Raymond Gonzales" instead of writing about her All about Buford experiences.
I wouldn't dream of insisting that Virginia write about her brother in law's death or write more about her mother's Alzheimers instead of her pregnancy.
If my sister kept a blog or journal, I would gleefully demand that she not talk about me knowing that she most certainly will.
So to Chrissy and to others -- I say this: Write. If you don't want to write about something, then for cryin' out loud don't. If you do -- spill. Write for therapy (it's cheaper) write for fun. Tell your stories. God knows I love reading you, even if you share something I'm not comfortable with or disagree with. Just write for you. Screw your audience (mwa ha ha) and have fun with it.
Before I accidentally put up the wrong page in my journal thanksgiving weekend, I had no idea the amount of strangers reading this thing. The amount of email I received surprised me to say the least. I figured Virginia, Annie, Amy... Mr. Garfield. Carrie. They'd notice. But complete strangers were... worried. Concerned.
I'm glad you are here and reading. And Chrissy -- I miss your Colloquy. You are a very funny writer, a beautiful person, and I really loved reading your stuff. You made me love "The King of Queens" on your recommendation. Your skiing story still makes me smile. Your writing on your mom and her spirit stay with me. I wish you'd write again -- but that isn't my decision. It was good reading you while I had you there... and no matter what you do writing wise you're still a funnyassed babe.
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