(no subject)

Set the car to Ramming Speed to get to a plowed street, and am now at work. Schools are still closed, so Deb'll be home with her get, and someone's gotta be here. Well, that's not strictly true, but someone's gonna go wiggy if she spends another day in the house. Tom is my queen. He brought rolls.*

I am in awe of the sheer multi-level badness of Rose Red.

viedma was entirely right about The Secret Garden. I feared a total stickyfest, but the author's sense of humor is so sharp and dry that you could crumble it up and put it in your chili, so it's cool.

*"Rolls." Local dialect for big mofo box of doughnuts.

(no subject)

(no subject)

I took the Seinfeld Character Test.





You can take the
Seinfeld Character test by GIFFORD!

a life even more ordinarily-er yet again

Snow, snow, snow. Somewhere along the line it shifted from pelting pellets to big nifty flakes, and is pretty now, apart from the having-to-lift-it thing. And apart from these dork-ass boots I've got on because I neglected to bring a change of footwear.

The February Tolkien Calendar picture looks eerily like Spirit of the Prairie, except the girl is Goldberry Bombadil (Mrs) and not wearing a sunbonnet. The landscape part is neat. The Goldberry is weirdly out of proportion, and makes the one I posted earlier this week look like Nancy Spungen. Still, she's better than the Hildebrandts' Goldberry, who looked as though she'd been grown in a vat. Mercifully, Tom is nowhere to be seen.

Visited the tokyopop.com close-out sale and bought useless crap. Whee! Cutey Honey doll for $1.98. Oh, I really couldn't. Well, if you insist...

(no subject)

Which Kids In The Hall recurring character are YOU?

(no subject)

Drive home and it's all lovely and sunny and sparkly. The city plow's been by, so I have to park in the street and attempt to shovel a way in. But Wendy from next door is out on her front porch, waving.

"Chris'll do that! He's got the truck!"

Chris (her hubbin) is nowhere in sight, and there's no truck. "Um...huh?"

"Chris is right there and he's got his truck and he'll dig you out!"

I look very carefully. "Where?"

"He's right there!"

Their yard and drive is completely Chris-free. "Do...do you see him right now?" It's important not to upset hallucinating people. I can wave at her invisible husband if I can figure out where he's supposed to be. Meanwhile, I start digging.

"STOP!!!" Wendy fairly shrieks as I get the first bit of shovel in.

I back up a little, leaving the shovel standing up in the snow. Has she snapped? Her baby's a year old - is this some strange, delayed form of post-partum depression?

Wendy points up the street. There's a tiny red truck coming, with a plow on its nose. Chris is at the wheel.

I look at her. "Oh! Chris has a thingie on his truck!"

"Yes!"

"Ohhhhhhhh!"

"He will do your driveway."

"Oh. Well, cool! Thanks!"

Chris plows out the driveway, with that peculiar happy look that men get when they can work the big toys.

And we all lived happily ever after.