Groundhog Day

So guess what happened yesterday?

Yep. It snowed.

Not so much snowed as rained teeny, frozen pieces of insanity. All day, those eensy bits of stir crazy. Plink-plink-plink.

Of course, no school. Of course, can't play outside.

After pointlessly begging the heavens to please make it stop, I resolved to rise above the inevitable roar of the D Channel and the plink-plink-plinking on every window... and actually use my shut-in time to write.

Determination, it eludes me so often. Yesterday I was determined to be determined.

Then we lost power.

Have I mentioned that we live in the woods? Loss of power is no laughing matter, people. It can go on and on. And on. And on.

There was no way I was going to stay in the woods with no power, no heat, no water and no D Channel with two little tornadoes.

One manually heaved-open garage door later, we were outta there...they to a friend's powered house, and me - sadly, not to write, but to work. So much for determination.

Despairing edge having slightly softened with few hours of adult contact, and confirmation made with neighbor that power was restored, I scooped up the tornadoes and went home.

Then we lost power.

Now it's almost dark. It's dinnertime. It's cold.

Plink-plink-plink-plink-plink...

Somehow, right then - maybe instinct, maybe insanity - I surrendered. I can't explain it. I just gave in to the whole ridiculous, frozen, dark, gloomy, never-ending winter of it all.

We built a fire. Played Twister. Lit every candle we could find and lined them up on the mantle. Dug up barbecue skewers and roasted hot dogs.

We sat in front of the fire and ate our hot dogs, the scent of lavender/christmas cookie/fresh cut grass, and burning wood, wafting all around us.

Pillows and layers of blankets made their way into a giant bed where we hunkered down together for the night.

In place of bedtime (we guessed it was bedtime) stories, we played Telephone. You know, pass around the whispered message and see how it changes.

I don't guess it can change much between three players, but I still had to ask to hear the last one again. Just to make sure I heard it right.

Thank you for the best night ever. That was the message.

...Now, listen. The point of this, lest you misunderstand, is not that I am now in love with winter. I most definitely am not in love with winter.

The point is, you just never know. You never know what's coming next. It might be, for someone, the best night ever.

AND...I wrote! OK, I blogged. Blogging counts.