It’s rare that it snows in the Pacific Northwest — even more rare are the frigid temperatures we’ve had the last couple days (-9 last night, the second coldest day on record) — so the kids were pretty much out of their minds with joy when they woke up Friday morning to a transformed neighborhood. The snow is as fluffy as talcum powder and makes a shitty snowman, but they’ve been out in it as long as their bodies can stand the chill, then returning inside for stove-side blanket warming and hot chocolate. In between, we’ve watched lots of movies, ventured out to get our tree, and had more than our fair share of cabin-fever related meltdowns, and it’s felt very Christmassy and perfect, down to the crawling desire not to spend ONE MORE GODDAMNED SECOND with your family, whom you love very much. You know what I mean? You know what I mean.
(Did I say shitty snowman? I meant incredibly awkward snowman, unless you see the bust of Darth Vader emerging from the ground, in which case it’s an incredibly awesome snowman.)