We've been seeing a lot of snow and today I felt so stir-crazy I almost went running in it, but, instead, opted to get my church on with Connie so I could get out of the house. In an unusual twist of fate, I drove and found that the roads and pavement were quite clear, just saturated, which meant I probably could have gone for a run, but lost my luster for it when we came home. Maybe it was all the white Bogey hair on my coat that I proceeded to remove, piece by piece, during the homily that changed my mind. At any rate, by the time we arrived back home, all I wanted to do was work on my syllabus and eat some yogurt. Unfortunately, the yogurt didn't quite pan out (turns out my dad digs fage, too!), but the syllabus did and I completed the whole thing, weekly schedule of readings and activities, as well, all before dinner time.
Also, I slipped in a little registry browsing whilst watching CSI with my parents (who are getting to the age where they ask me to please not run on the stairs. I partially want to remind them that I'm still young and fairly limber and that my hip won't break easily if I slip, but I don't want to remind them they're getting older and, by saying that, I'm fairly sure I will. More than that, I don't want them to know I recognize the fact that they're getting older. I want them to remain as young as possible for as long as possible, even if it is just at heart.) Anyhow, in my idle registry browsing, I stumbled across a "kitchen torch" which showed a picture of a small, hand held, flame-throwing torch being held up to semi-charred vine-tomatoes on a wire rack in, what could only be (I attribute this assumption to the name of the product) a kitchen. I sort of wanted it, but it reminded me of the time I left the oil to heat on the stove in a pot and forgot about it, only to remember just in time to see it burst into flames and shoot monsoon-sized waves of smoke throughout the house. It took Dustin's smarts on putting out electric fires and my running around the house opening all the doors and windows for us to stop coughing and the fire to go out. It didn't do much for the smoke alarm, which alerted us just a little too late that something was a rye. But they always do, don't they? Either they alert too late or they alert without cause (because the batteries are running out, of course!).
I opted not to register for the mini blow-torch, though it promised lots of charbroiled fun. I dig my house and would like it to remain in tact. Who knows if Dustin will be home the next time I almost set the place on fire?
My advice to you all, when the weather is crappy, like they're predicting it will be tomorrow, and keeps you from heading home to see the love of your life: start with soup. It won't take you home, but it sure is comforting and it beats pining for Greek yogurt that you ran out of and couldn't find a replacement for at the store two days ago. Trust me on this: soup.
PS-I miss you, D! Hopefully the snow will let up so I can head your way. I think the house must feel lonely with only half of us present! xo