Arctic Blast 2008: Eating Crow, Er Snow

Okay. So it finally snowed. A lot. Like 8-12 inches. The whole Pacific Northwest is in shock.

Kids love it, though. Here's Zig peeking through a few thousand layers:

("I can't put my arms down!")

It's cold. It raining ice. It's blowing snow.

We left our snow shovel behind in the Midwest because we were told "It doesn't snow out here."

Mmmm-hmmm.

Okay, so I've lately been told that it hasn't snowed this bad in 25 years.

Pa and I ended up "shoveling" the driveway with an Ikea table top and a dust pan. I have no doubt we gave the neighborhood a fine, fine laugh.

Speaking of Sunshine and Roses...

We've all been snowed in for a week (our entire city owns four snow plows, so I've also been told), so some of our friends called and invited themselves over for dinner. Those boots you see belong to the Mom. Someone thought she was being cute and funny.

Well, she was.

Meanwhile, we're testing the limits of Cabin Fever and drinking hot chocolate by the gallon.

Also: I'm dreaming of a green Christmas, and eating crow.

Arctic Blast 2008, you win.

Arctic Blast 2008: I Surrender

The "Arctic Blast 2008" has now become the "Snowpocolypse" and "Snowmageddon."

I shook my head back and forth for at least 187 minutes this morning.

Could. Not. Believe. It.

I have yet to see a snowplow, a snowblower, or even! A shovel.

No, correct that. I DID see my neighbor cleaning off her steps with a garden shovel.

Classic.

We Pacific Northwesterners know how to garden! But we don't know a thing about snow.

Especially when it starts to bury cars:

Pa worked from home today. (Translation: Locked himself in the room with the computer while the rest of us "kept quiet.")

Boys got to play outside for a bit:

Meanwhile, Sister Suz was stuck inside, watching the excitement from the window:

Since the movie rental box is not too far from our house, we've rented four* DVDs in the past 24 hours. McDonald's has closed. Trash pickup was canceled. The mail can't even get through! (Whatever happened to "the mail must go through...the mail must go through...no matter if it rains or snows...the mail must go through?")

Stay tuned for even more boring weather reports ahead. There's supposed to be more of the same for the next week. Week!

(PS: To add to the drama, our e-mail hasn't worked since Friday. Friday! Four days! I can't even be cooped up with my messaging addiction, hellloooooo, H A L P!)

(PPS: Dad: Please bring your snowplow over and clean out our driveway. And the roads in the rest of the city. I don't ask for much, just that. XOXO.)

*Horton Hears a Who, Hancock, Prince Caspian, and Mamma Mia

Arctic Blast 2008

I woke up Sunday morning to this:

No. Not the sound of the snow, gently falling to the ground.

The sound of two boys, whooping and hollering like a couple of monkeys let loose from the zoo.

Early morning.

Hence, the pajamas.

BLAME THE PA.

So!

Snow! In our city! Is unheard of!

And no one owns shovels or snow blowers, and the city doesn't have the equipment to clean the streets. So...church was canceled (for a light dusting of snow!) and the kids got to play outside. A lot.

Who knows if Campers owns a hat or his own pair of gloves. Seems he just borrowed mine:

Pa spent a good deal of time outside, building a snow castle with the boys:

And you'd never guess what Little Miss Who Has Never Seen Snow thought of it all.

Mmm-hmmm.

Joy. These kids bring me such joy.

(The title, "Arctic Blast 2008" is what the news stations were calling the snow "storm." Ha ha ha.)

Arctic Blast 2008: The Sequel

The Arctic Blast continues. I mean, JUST LOOK AT IT.

An eighth-inch of snow!

2 mph wind!

Smiling elf-type goofs showing up on my street!

I hope we survive.

Jell-O Christmas Cutouts

Speaking of annual traditions, I decided to skip the decorated sugar cookies this past Christmas and just do cutouts with Jell-O instead.

But then! Arctic Blast showed up and we ended up making the pesky high-maintenance cookies anyway. Cabin fever will do weird things to a person's sense of reason.

So this Jell-O. This all natural, straight from the source Jell-O.

You know, part of what makes these kinds of experiences so fun is all the "discussing" that is done over I Already Washed My Hands and Why Do I Always Have To Go Last and I Get The Best Cutter It Is Mine I Saw It First. That's always followed shortly by A Good Round Of Shoving and Crying Over The Broken Jell-O and His Piece Is Bigger Than Mine and Why Can't We Eat Another Piece Of Jell-O You Never Let Us Have Any Fun.

I have no doubt that all of my kids' memories will involve some level of trauma.

We've finally learned that we have to divide and conquer, and lay out 387 ground rules before the fun even begins. There's usually a coin toss involved, or when we're feeling lazy, a simple "pick a number between 1 and 10."

Stand back and admire our fiiiiiine parenting skills.

We also make sure to contain the Little Miss Bizzy in her chair:

We weren't born yesterday, people! We are ON TO THEM!

Speaking of acting childish, it had been so long since Pa and I had had finger Jell-O, but we both knew what to do upon taking our first bite.

Swishitbackandforthinourmouthsrealfast.

Real mature.

Here are a few of the Jell-O cutouts, before being mangled by the kids or the parents:

We'll just call these "Jell-O Cutouts 2008." I'm certain you'll be seeing something quite similar around Christmas '09.

Arctic Blast 2008: Snowtem Pole

It started out being THE BIGGEST SNOWMAN EVER, but looking back, I see it's more of a Snowtem Pole.

Regardless, the boys and I had fun. The temps were perfect for playing outside today, and I even kept from hurting my back when piling on the top few blobs of snow. (Hello, mid-thirties, when Not Injuring Yourself becomes The Goal.)

(Look, Dad! I even gave the Snowtem Pole legs, just like the huge Snow MAN we built many, many years back.)

Zig built his own baby snowman...

Which he promptly kicked to death soon after he got frustrated over not being able to stick on the eyes.

The memories, they are always in the making.