The Blizzard of ’18

Sometimes, I wish the Bible was a little more detailed in the stories it holds.

For instance, I want to know…

Did Noah’s wife, bless her heart, wake up on the twenty-fourth day of NOTHING BUT RAIN, RAIN EVERYWHERE, LOOK AT ALL THIS RAIN, and say, “Noah!  I don’t think I’m going to survive this cruise, unless one of our three sons has a degree in chemistry or pharmacy, and can grind something up into a little Valium cocktail for me.”

And Moses’ wife?  Did Zipporah walk out of her tent one morning and exclaim, “I don’t think I can take another day of all THIS SAND and all THIS WANDERING!  I haven’t been to a Target in YEARS, Moses!  Years!  And I can’t get my shoes to wear out, even though they went out of style sixteen years ago.”

Because honestly?  I am to the point of being OVER WINTER.  This is the winter when it simply WILL NOT QUIT SNOWING!  For.  The.  Stinking.  Love!!!  STOP SNOWING ALREADY!!  Small Town, USA could have single-handedly hosted the winter Olympics this month, and we wouldn’t have needed to manufacture a single fake snowflake with machines for the ski runs.

At any rate, it snowed again last night.  And it snowed again today.  Actually, last night’s snow kind of blended right in with today’s snow, so they may have just become one CONTINUOUS snow.  And then, in the middle of all the snowing, the wind picked up and decided to whip the snow around.  Now, this might cause Texans to stop and say, “Is wind a bad thing in a blizzard?”  Yes, Texas.  Wind blows snow and causes it to drift.  And if you remember your math skills from high school, wind velocity against snow accumulation does A LOT of drifting, the higher those numbers go.  It’s all basic math… like when you look at your handful of twelve quarters and wonder if you have enough to buy yourself something small at Starbucks.

Anyway.

We dug Hubs’ car out of our driveway this morning, and we went to church, with the fourteen other people in our congregation who were determined that neither snow nor snow could keep them from hearing the Lord’s message this morning.  And then we went to the grocery store, because… much like Noah’s wife probably did before the rain began... I felt the need to secure a few groceries, so that there would be coffee creamer and popcorn, if we found ourselves reliving The Great Blizzard that once stranded Laura Ingalls and her teacher at the one-roomed school house overnight, until Pa could come and rescue them.

And then we came home to hunker down.  The TV and the fireplace became our best friends, because what else do you do on a day like today?

I’ll tell you what else you do:  You endure the smell of frying rabbit in your kitchen, as it swirls all over the house and nearly chokes you out.

Yes.  I said the words FRYING and RABBIT.  I know Texas stands in agreement with us here.  When your husband owns a computer company and a gang of rabbits (that would make the gangs of LA look tame) chews up all the wires in his giant air conditioning unit, which cools all of his servers, and causes SIX THOUSAND ENTIRE AMERICAN DOLLARS WORTH OF DAMAGE THAT HAS TO BE REPLACED, your husband ends up buying his company’s armed security guard a small game license and then releases said security guard outside.

And then said security guard gives your teenage son the fruits of his labor.

And then your teenage son soaks it in a brine, dips it in egg, coats it in flour, and fries it up.

And then you sort of want to gag and go to Target (only you can’t, because SNOW, SNOW, SNOW), because escaping the smell of frying bunny becomes more important to you than surviving all the winter’s fury once was.

So.  Apparently some of us are having fried rabbit as a side dish to our upcoming dinner of marinated, grilled steaks and mashed potatoes this evening.  Because listen, Texas:  SNOW DOES NOT KEEP US FROM FIRING UP THE BARBECUES AROUND HERE!  If that were the case, no one would be able to grill anything from September to May.

And while the fireplace was running and the bunny was sizzling in hot oil, Thing 2 shimmied himself into his snowpants and boots… and out he went.

He played until his toes were numb in his boots.  He played until he could no longer feel his fingers in his mittens.  He played until snot poured out of his nose and his teeth were chattering, and then he came inside, happy and content and ready to build a Lego spaceship beside the fireplace.

And THAT, y’all, has been our day.

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