It's frikking boiling out.
Well - it's upper 40s. But we all got dressed for the second week of January and sweated about the driveway whilst enjoying the sunshine. On Sunday the local weather guy warned us all that it would snow that night. 80% chance of it apparently. They've done the same every day since then. Except between 2.50 when I pick my daughter up, and 3.15 when I get home (quality information there for any would-be burglars) they change it every day to, "well not today- tomorrow obviously." It's all very, "We've always been at war with Eastasia" when they do it as well. I swear that meteorologists don't do actually do anything but watch the local news three cities east or north of them and then tell people that might happen where they live.
Anyhoo - I'm trying not to bore people shitless with, "and then we ate muffins, and let me tell you a hilarious story involving my son and streudel!" type guff at the moment so have some photos instead.
So here's my son rocking the 80s Zach Morris jacket and playing with a deflated basketball (as they all should be). I told him to pretend it was a snowball.
Here's a shot of the coffee can sculpture (she really does call it that as well) in front of the now replanted but ham-less Ham Tree.
She made this one today. She tied two dried-up Hosta things (I think) together with string, and then dangled a pine cone in the middle of it. "That's nice" I told her. "It's to stop birds from hitting the windows!" she said. Not been a problem for us but okay.
The dog sniffing around the reclaimed toy house. The cat had no interest in hiding out in it. Even with blankets and dryness and a lock from the wind it was evidently colder than the garage.
My son hasn't really understood why I've dragged these out of the basement at all. As you will see shortly too.
One of only three photos my daughter took 9hence no View From A Mentalist today).
And here's my son not allowing the lack of snow to ruin his sledding excitement.
Not the sharpest.