A morning story from our mountain home
I woke up this morning with all gladness. There was snow cascading to the ground, gently covering the branches and deck rails. It was a White Christmas kind of snow. That makes me happy. And Laura's snowbunny friends stopped by unexpectedly last night, off peak from Shawnee, and left me their chipotle chicken wraps for lunch today. Free lunch!
I had gone to bed worried how I would keep the baby warm the next day and, out of love, had a dream about how to fix our stove. Wouldn't you know it, I fixed it this morning. Warm house. Persistent auger. Man creates fire once again.
Laura had to go in to work so I plowed the walkway for her and warmed the car. This was to be her final dance with Sexy Bird. She was nostalgic and got out the driveway just fine.
Well apparently Sexy Bird overheard ours plans last night, to trade her in for a more recent, modish & less oily model, of which her fate was not of any concern to us and in a manner reminiscent only of renowned horror writers, she struck back.
Not a mile into Laura's commute, a skid, a bump, a spin and a thud. All parties are okay. Not a mark to be seen on either party, Laura & S.B. save an evergreen branch stuck up in her undercarriage, Sexy Bird's, not Laura's. It would be, the day before we plan to trade her in, that the car tries to kill us. Or maybe it was a repudiated suicide attempt executed from a deep seated feeling of rejection or desertion. Sensitive.
Excitement beside, Laura was able to drive home has returned to the warmth (thank the dreamy goodness) of our little mountain home.
Stroudsburg area school district: Closed. Now we know.
I woke up this morning with all gladness. There was snow cascading to the ground, gently covering the branches and deck rails. It was a White Christmas kind of snow. That makes me happy. And Laura's snowbunny friends stopped by unexpectedly last night, off peak from Shawnee, and left me their chipotle chicken wraps for lunch today. Free lunch!
I had gone to bed worried how I would keep the baby warm the next day and, out of love, had a dream about how to fix our stove. Wouldn't you know it, I fixed it this morning. Warm house. Persistent auger. Man creates fire once again.
Laura had to go in to work so I plowed the walkway for her and warmed the car. This was to be her final dance with Sexy Bird. She was nostalgic and got out the driveway just fine.
Well apparently Sexy Bird overheard ours plans last night, to trade her in for a more recent, modish & less oily model, of which her fate was not of any concern to us and in a manner reminiscent only of renowned horror writers, she struck back.
Not a mile into Laura's commute, a skid, a bump, a spin and a thud. All parties are okay. Not a mark to be seen on either party, Laura & S.B. save an evergreen branch stuck up in her undercarriage, Sexy Bird's, not Laura's. It would be, the day before we plan to trade her in, that the car tries to kill us. Or maybe it was a repudiated suicide attempt executed from a deep seated feeling of rejection or desertion. Sensitive.
Excitement beside, Laura was able to drive home has returned to the warmth (thank the dreamy goodness) of our little mountain home.
Stroudsburg area school district: Closed. Now we know.
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