Winter and whatever else I feel like writing about...

Winter hates my skin. For as long as I can remember, all the frigid months of every year have made it their personal goal to put my defenseless shell through hell. Believe me, it's not pretty.

Exhibit A:
One of my poor calves...
Scaly, flaky, pink patches of skin. This is the only exhibit I will show, but the scales have also invaded the tops of my feet, my knees, outer thighs, and posterior. It doesn't matter how much lotion I apply or how much water I drink-- the dryness prevails.
You know those lotion infused spa socks they make? Forget those. I need some lotion infused pants. Ones that intermittently drizzle a coat of lotion over my dehydrated hide as I go about my day. If that wouldn't solve the problem, maybe drinking lotion instead of water would help. Or perhaps a lotion IV?
Winter, what did I ever do to you? Oh well. I guess things could always be worse. Like if every inch of my skin spontaneously disintegrated the moment winter arrived.


With the first official snowfall a few days ago, Oliver helped me make a snowman.

He contributed by patting small mounds of the fluffy, white stuff onto the growing snow body.
He asked if he could throw snowballs at our creation, but I discouraged it. Then he asked me to build a little snowman for him to throw snowballs at. He wound up going inside before I even finished this one, probably to throw his toys all over the house.


At first I thought I didn't have anything to make a face for our blank snowguy. But then I remembered some old Easter candy in my stash. I (somehow) let some Cadbury Eggs expire in a dresser drawer, so I sliced one in half to make eyes. Then I found an orange Easter egg candy for the nose, and some stray licorice for the smile. I thought he looked pretty sweet.


I coaxed Oliver back outside to help me decorate the snowboy and pose for pictures.

Then we went in the house as the snow continued to fall all afternoon. The snow would later turn to deadly drops of rain...


Notice how he's slumped to the side here, as if staring into his own grave. His sloppy noggin became one with the wintery ground by nightfall. =(

Well, shoot. And he had such a promising future...


On a happier note, I found something yummy at Dollar Tree. I've bought these boxes of SwirlStix at WinCo for the past few summers, but they've always been a variety pack. The best flavor, cotton candy, was always quickly consumed by the first two lucky treat eaters, leaving the less desirable flavors to sit unloved in the dark freezer.
No need to leave "anyone" out anymore, since I found a box with only the cotton candy kind inside. Yum! Who knows if they'll still be available like this by summertime, so I bought 3 packs to tide us over for the time being.

I like knowing they're in my freezer. And if I can't get them in the summer, at least I can look back at the picture and maybe lick it a little if I really need to.


A couple of months ago I took some time to read all the notes and letters from one of my longtime favorite friends, Renee. I always enjoy little trips down memory lane, but her notes make me miss those days. I've mentioned this before, but as of last summer, she and I have been friends for 20 years!
From 8th grade to college age, we exchanged frequent silly notes. Some about boys, some about school and teachers, and lots of fun, fictional stories in between.

It was hard to get a picture to adequately portray the volume of papers in this notebook.
We had the best time writing stories. I haven't done so since I was about 19. When Renee was away at BYU, along with handwritten tales of college blunders, I even made her a couple of audio stories on cassette tape, complete with noises taken from a set of professional sound effects CDs.

I'm trying to figure out how and what I can write now that I'm "grown up". I haven't tried to make up a story in so long. It used to come so easily. I just have too many distractions in life now. Or do I? I know I'm just making excuses. I didn't ever let school get in the way of my story-writing time back then. Why do I let crap get in the way of me being creative now? I think I need to just make myself do this. Make myself write. It's not that I don't want to. I just don't know where to start! Maybe a brainstorming session with Renee?