Yo Chuck!

We really do have more snow than you in Southern Ontario. And look, *Steve* got a parcel!

signed, the willow

Accumulation

Well, the weather outside is frightful and I don't have a fireplace. The End.

signed, the willow

My snow fill

For me, growing up in Northwestern Ontario has endured me for all sorts of weather, and mosquitoes. For that reason, I decided to reward myself with the pleasure of staying inside in my shorty pants, bare feet and cool glass of water while my *Mila* rushes to get dressed and quickly jumps in the pile of white stuff on our deck. After all, it will be me that has to take all the wet, frozen clothes in to be laundered while I balance a vacuum cleaner on my head and stir a pot of chicken noodle soup with my toes.

signed, the willow

We all fall down....

While I was busy barfing in my bathroom, the TSX felt a tummy ache in trading, and the internet had an episode of vomiting. All true dear internet.

And now for something completely different.

Remember: When others are greedy, be fearful and when others are fearful, be greedy. That's what Mr. Warren Buffett would tell us.

signed, the willow

A Blogger with the Flu

Darn you Kindergarten. Why must you make the parents sick too? It had nothing to do with that cupcake smorgasbord, did it?

signed, the willow

Right now the dog is letting out the occasional bark that tells me she needs to go outside but is afraid to. The rain keeps her in and just as well, one less muddy mess to clean up.

We were lucky enough to go to *Steve's* work party this weekend. They treated the kids to a famous Dr. Seuss story about Christmas and each kid came home with a DVD of the latest hit, Wall-E. Which I'm quite happy about since I love Wall-E and his love story, even if the movie does bear resemblance to 2001: A Space Odyssey. So, here is a scene from the party. The moment after I took this picture, as Mr. Narrator (who is directly correlated to my first year Psychology professor - hence the reason I dropped Psych 101) instructed "Jim Halpert" from the Office to bang the gong, everyone under the age of three went into a major hysterical screaming, crying temper tantrum and all hell broke loose. Heck, look at the little girl with her shoulders shrugged, her nervous system went into a tizzy.

Here my tizzy starts with the dog barking.

signed, the willow

Snowy Cupcake

I love a good cupcake photo. Thanks Lady of the Lake.

signed, the willow

Icelandic Socks

Believe me, go here, make a video, have a laugh, have some egg nog, fall down and make a sock puppet.

signed, the willow

Tally the Cards

My brother and I have a family holiday tradition of counting cards. So far, I am one ahead of him. The only rule thus far is that we are not allowed to mail ourselves cards. I am wondering if catalogues and calendars count? If they do I am very far ahead. See yesterday's post.

This week has been stressful for *Mila* and I. Both of us like to use our tears to express ourselves. But we also like to eat a bowl of black cherry ice cream to drown our woes too. I experience great sadness when I think of an adult yelling at a child - and it reminds me to have more ice cream and less screaming, as a mother who has screamed in the past. I speak from experience. Life can be like a bowl of ice cream and involve meltdowns and freezing moments. The memories we make at these tender ages of 4, 5, and 6 last lifetimes. If you think back to Kindergarten you might not remember things. Good. It probably means your Kindergarten teacher sang you some nice songs while you napped on your pillow. Why did we have to have a nap during our 2 hours of school anyhow? When the bad memories start to burn their way into the images of 35 mm film of your mind is around age 6, or grade 1. You begin to recognize embarrassment and want only to fit "in". I remember going home in grade 1 the day our dog died, or "ran away" as my mother gently put it to me. I remember how badly I wanted to stay home that day and not go back after lunch. Struggling with my mother, she probably let me stay home with her to mourn the loss of the dog that "ran away".

signed, the willow

*Steve*! I will not buy you a chicken

No matter how hard my husband may try, I will not buy him a chicken. This would be a live chicken I am referring to. *Mila* (our 4.75 year old daughter) is convinced that this chicken *Steve* longs for would turn into his dinner. Well, just when I thought that his life long dream of owning chickens as pets had ended, a catalogue arrived in the mail. Upon opening the mailbox I had my HABLAD (have a belly laugh a day) and passed it to *Mila*, who looked at me with that "Oh Gawd Mother, now what?" look.

Willow: Remember how Dad wants a chicken all the time?

*Mila*: Yeah?

Willow: Well, look at this!

There it was in its finest catalogue form: EggCartons.com

Where on earth does he find this stuff, internet?

*Mila*: Here Mom, I'm tired of reading about chickens.com

signed, the willow (still chickenless)