Katrina's Nonsoapy Journal

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January 11, 2005

I was going to not use the midi file that comes with this webset since 99.9% of people hate midi files, but "Vincent" by Don McLean is one of my favorite songs, so I couldn't bear to take it off.  Bear with it, OK?

It's snowing.  The appropriate description would be "snowing like mad."  It was kind enough to wait on the "like mad" part until I got the kids on the bus and got inside.  It did snow like mad last night, after three days of raining steadily.  The three days of rain took out a good bit of the snow, so that it was down to the hardest packed last 10 inches or so.  Now it's back up to my knees again.  I literally groaned aloud when I was getting Delena out the door this morning and saw Eric hadn't taken down the trash.  That meant I had to wrangle the dumpster all the way down to the bottom of the driveway, trudging through the knee deep mess and dragging that huge dumpster behind me.  It was madness and took me easily 20 minutes to do it.  I came in frozen and fussing. 

I hate this snow.  It's official.  Knowing that I hate it, it still keeps showing up.  You'd think it would take its rejection with dignity and get the hell out of my yard.  Instead, it shows up with its friends, sleet and slush.

It's only the beginning of January.  We have a good two more months of this to go before clear days are the standard.  Sure, we had snow up here in April, but it was a two day fluke.  March is when we moved up here and the snow was gone, although when Eric came up in early March, there was still a bit on the ground.  I suspect that last, straggling bit of snow likely fell the previous December.  >:<

Enough bitching about the snow?  Not by a longshot, but I'll save it for another column.  If I pace myself on the snow bitching, we'll likely both be healthier.

When I was coming home from town with Nathan on Saturday, he was sleeping soundly in the back seat, using my coat for a pillow.  We hit a particularly desolate stretch of road that is about a quarter mile long just barely on the outskirts of Diamond Springs (still about 30 minutes from my house).  I was driving slower than usual because of the rain and I was surprise to see a largish white dog running beside the road.  There are no houses, nothing but trees, along this part of the road, so it surprised me to see a dog looking so determined, definitely on a mission.  I slowed down on some kind of protective instinct, thinking of this poor dog out in the rain and the cold.  There were no other cars on the road, so I eased up on the trotting dog and that was when he turned around and whipped out some dog stink-eye on me!  In fact, it wasn't even dog stink-eye, it was WOLF stink-eye!  It was a white wolf with grey and some black through his fur, which gave the overall appearance of white.  I always figured the line was so fuzzy between wolves and huskies and such that it would be hard to tell the difference.  Not so.  There was no doubt in my mind.  Certainly, the "Save the Wolf" "Little Red Riding Hood Lied" folks are more than welcome to wage their campaign, but I am quite sure that this particularly wolf probably ate grandma, a few little pigs and then dressed up in sheepskin to procure some choice mutton.  He wasn't huge, but he was mighty... mighty pissed off.  Once I got my teeth back in my mouth and my eyeballs shoved back in my head, I drove on.

As I passed by the turn off to Somerset, I remembered something Eric told me on the way to Nathan's Christmas program that I should have told you back then, but I think it stunned me to such and extreme that I had to block out the memory to be able to live with myself and not kill my husband.  We were going through the town of Fairplay, which is beside Somerset and Eric just out of the blue busts out with, "Oh, you know that guy from Magnum PI has a house around here."  !adoing!  I replied, "That guy from Magnum PI?  Most assuredly you are NOT referring to The Great God Tom Selleck by such a benign moniker as 'that guy from Magnum PI??'"  He says, "Tom Selleck, that's the guy with the mustache, right?  Who was in that movie with the guys and the baby?  Yeah, that's him."  !adoing!  I was stunned into silence... for so many reasons.  Tom Selleck is practically my neighbor.  Sure, it's likely one of 9-10 houses he owns, but one of them is 20 minutes out my front door.  Sure, Eddie Murphy has a house in El Dorado Hills, which is about 40 minutes from here, but see, Eddie Murphy is not on the list.

Tom Selleck, however, IS on the list.  Every married person knows about the list and it might take years for you to get around to discussing it with your partner or it might be part of the prenup.  The list is the group of people with whom you are allowed to have rampant, passionate, heart-pounding, clothes ripping, orifice stretching, sweaty red hot monkey sex should the legitimate opportunity ever present itself.  My list is: George Clooney, Tom Selleck and usually Johnny Depp.  I say usually Johnny Depp because the third name shifts around a good bit.  Sometimes it's Blake Gibbons.  Sometimes it's Corbin Bernsen.  Sometimes, it's John J. York.  Eric can never remember who is on my list, so I change it out as needed.  Eric's list is easy to remember.  Angelina Jolie, Angelina Jolie and Angelina Jolie.  So you see, Tom Selleck isn't just on the list, he's on the permanent, unchanging part of the list.

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