Snow Day 3

The kids were in the hallway, staring at the thermostat (which also can give you a 10-day forecast, among other cool tricks) and arguing about whether or not it was going to snow after all when Daddy hollered from his office (where he has a lovely view out the window, the most accurate weather forecast of all): "It's snowing!"

So we bundled up and went for a walk in the freshly falling snow.

Here's Rachel:

Extreme Cold Warning

On the one hand, I recognize that this weather barely registers as chilly in some climes. For my brain, I've turned my phone to Celsius because while my brain can comprehend hot temperatures in Fahrenheit, it completely breaks when it gets cold. I think it's because I have so often lived in warmer places while thinking in Fahrenheit, so I can translate warmer temperatures in my head. Like, "Oh, it's 80°F. That's like 26°C." And I have that all...snug in my brain. 

Room temperature ranges from 20–21°C or 68–70°F. 

Those feel equivalent in my brain. They make sense to me. 

But then I'll see, like, 23° pop up on my screen and my brain automatically assumes that it's in Celsius. I think, "No way is it 70° outside today!"

Yesterday's temps in °F

Books and jokes and jokebooks

First of all, this is the only picture I took today (apparently):

Zoë had quite the sleep-in this morning. After she woke up I asked her why she was so tired and she sheepishly answered that she'd stayed up reading (somehow even after we confiscated her flashlight and gave her melatonin and...)

We did a lot of Saturday chores today (not that the house even looks like we did anything—but I assure you we were working like beavers) and when I brought a pile of books upstairs to put away on the shelf in the little girls' room and glanced at Zoë's bed, I had to laugh. 

She had been reading, indeed. 

(The hair you see in the picture is a doll, not a person...just so you know). 

Someone is the antagonist

I remembered the other story I was going to tell along with the [this door / the store] confusion story earlier: 

Rachel is taking an introductory theater class where they analyze plays and things. She has to attend two live events so we looked at UGA's schedule and one of their plays will fit the timeline for when her first analysis is due. 

"What was the name of that play again?" Rachel asked me as we were driving to campus (just because we were, not for the play).

"Oh...it was...ummmm..." 

The name of the play was just on the tip of my tongue but it was not going to come out.

"Someone is the Protag...no! Someone is the Antagonist!" 

"John Proctor is the Villain!" Rachel exclaimed. "Mom! That wasn't even close!"

I disagree! I think I came very close to remembering the title perfectly: someone (whose name begins with pro) is the antagonist. John Proctor is the villain. That is the same thing!

Bad luck with back tires

Biking to the park was...oppressive...somehow. 

Like, I barely made it there. I had trouble keeping up with Zoë and Alexander and their bikes don't even have gears. I needed to be on such a low gear to even go straight. I powered through things and we made it but, boy, was it ever the hardest bike ride of my life. 

I couldn't quite figure it out. Sure, it had been a while since I'd taken the kids on a bike ride, but I've been running...

Could it have been that my backpack was too heavy? I had my laptop, water for everyone, a bunch of glass bottles (that we stopped to deposit at the collection bin):

Frogging and cabbage and goats...just the worst

There were two stories that I had in mine of me completely misunderstanding someone...but I can only remember one now. So you'll get that one and then you'll get the story of how we juggled vehicles this afternoon.

*****

On the way home from campus, having already had the burning truck experience, Rachel and I decided we'd also stop by Walmart to grab a skein of yarn she needed to finish up the temperature blanket she's been working on for two years now. She's just adding the border, but realized about halfway through that we didn't have enough white yarn to make it all the way around so she had to "frog it," a textile crafting term for when you have to "rip it, rip it, rip it" apart, and start over again with a new skein. 

Why a new skein? Because it can be very difficult to colour match across batches of yarn, so even though "white yarn" might seem like it should always be just...white...in fact there are variations across batches of white yarn. 

So she pulled out the border she'd begun earlier and has started again with a fresh, full skein...which we had to pick up from the store. Walmart is on our way home, so that's where we went.

It was 9:56 pm when we walked in the door, where we were met by a police man and a door greeter.

"This door closes at 10:00," the door greeter informed me.

I glanced at my watch. It was, as I mentioned, 9:56. 

"The store closes at 10:00?!" I said, with some degree of surprise because...I don't know...it just seems like Walmart keeps insane business hours. Some of them are open 24/7. "We'd better hurry!"

"This door," the greeter enunciated slowly, for my sake. "Not the store. You can still use the far door. It's open until 11:00."

"Oh," I said sheepishly. "Okay, thanks. We've got plenty time then, Rachel. Let's go find your yarn."

*****

Bugs, Flowers, and Braids

I made Phoebe choose clothes this morning (since Andrew let her stay in her pyjamas all day yesterday—I don't mind the fact that he let her stay in her jammies all day (goodness knows I've done that) but I felt like two days in the same jammies was a bit much). She came to me with this outfit:

Pumpkins and Sweaters in January

In October, Jessica (who teaches in the primary, although she wasn't Phoebe's teacher) gave her class and Phoebe a pumpkin. Jessica always brings an extra [whatever] for Phoebe (she's very sweet like that, even if she judges my attachment to my cheap tupperware). 

Phoebe has insisted on being tucked into bed with that pumpkin ever since and every night we'd give the pumpkin a little squeeze to see if it was...starting to...you know...turn. Finally the day arrived that its once-rigid exterior developed a bit of give to it, if you will. We knew something had to be done sooner rather than later. 

So we made a big deal about picking out the perfect orange on Sunday morning so that Mommy could make her a stuffed pumpkin to replace her real pumpkin (which we invited her to toss into the garden to see if any baby pumpkins will come of it). 

Here she is picking out her orange:

Six Conversations from Facebook

In all honesty I am trying to move away from Facebook (Meta)...but it's just such a convenient place for storing little conversations throughout the day. So here are some conversations I've been storing up since the weekend...

1) While getting ready to head outside to play in the leftover snow (probably on Saturday or Sunday).

Phoebe: Will you put garbage bags on my feet?

Me: Sure. I can help you with that.

Phoebe (to Miriam): Are you putting garbage bags on?

Miriam: No. I am going to exercise self-restraint.

Phoebe: Oh. Well, I am not going to do that.

Me: I pretty much bank on you not doing that in any given situation, so...

Phoebe: And that's why I need garbage bags?

Me: And that's why you need garbage bags.

A funny thing happened on the way [from] the office

When Rachel and I were driving home from campus today, I noticed a plume of smoke rising around the corner. 

"Something's happening up there," I said. "You need to move over."

Fortunately, we were fairly alone on the road at that moment (changing lanes can be tricky). We rounded the corner and immediately saw the cause of the smoke. A large vehicle—what seemed to be a moving van—was engulfed in flames.