Excepting a few short outings here and there, I’ve basically been holed up in my house since last Wednesday. That’s a long time to be stuck inside a less-than-2000-square-foot space with unlimited access to baking supplies. Totally unrelated piece of trivia, did you know that it’s possible to gain five pounds in a week?

I would have thought that being housebound this long with the kids would have made me Homer-Simpson-something-something crazy by now, but it’s been . . . well, I do so love to complain, but truthfully it’s been kind of nice. Really nice, actually. The boys seem to have reached some kind of awesome stage where they aren’t so enormously different in ages and abilities, and I keep catching them just sort of contentedly hanging out. I can’t quite describe how it makes me feel to see them playing together or listen to Riley’s happy chatter interwoven with Dylan’s babbling. There needs to be a whole new language for that sort of joyous, heart-expanding goodness; it eclipses all things.



Before this snowbound business I had been feeling kind of sad about Dylan, about how he’s growing so quickly and entering into the realm of knowing what he wants and not being afraid to complain about it, often at ear-splitting levels. Where did my good-natured little baby go, I kept wondering, but oh, he’s still here. It’s easier to see it when life isn’t so rushed, that’s all. When we don’t have to run around all crazy in the morning getting everyone out the door, when evenings aren’t a stressful mess of hurried meals and tired kids and exhausted parents.


My mother and aunt were going to come for an early Christmas last Saturday, but we had to take a snow check. Now it’s unclear whether JB’s parents will make it, they’re battling their way up I-5 but last we heard they were in Salem and going about 30 MPH. We may be on our own for the holiday, and while that’s a bummer, we’re certainly not the only ones — I have coworkers and friends all over the place here in town whose family plans have been completely derailed by the weather.




We remain optimistic about the possibility of hosting a big family meal, though, and have picked up our Giant Hunk O’ Ham. No matter what, we’re certainly not lacking for food around here (see also: five pounds). And thus it’s time for that classic holiday game played throughout many cultures this time of year . . . CAT OR HAM?

Which weighs more, our cat?

Or a bone-in ham?

The rules are simple: you place your guess in the comments, I’ll randomly pick a winner from the correct guesses, you win an Interesting Prize.

You should know that 1) we did get Cat to stand on the scale with her full weight, and 2) my scale only measures to the pound.



** Comments closed! CAT OR HAM data being compiled now . . .**


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15 years ago

I say ham!

15 years ago

thinking ham :o)

15 years ago

I’m going with the cat. BTW, your boys just get cuter every day!

15 years ago

Ham, ham I say.

15 years ago

I have to say CAT.

Ms. W
15 years ago

Cat, FTW!

(I love the look on Cat’s face all, “The shame… the shame… one day I will kill you for this.”)

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