I'm certainly hoping that all this talk about Ol' Man Winter making my snow removal ass his bee-otch this holiday weekend comes to fruition. After some meaningless "dress rehearsals" earlier this month, I'm up for a good ol' fashioned snow-down, throw-down.
These couple of inches of snow tease that got thrown our way surely must be a precursor to much loftier piles of the white stuff in the days ahead or I'll be as disappointed as the next woman to whom Tiger Woods says, "you're the only girl for me."
While I'm come to embrace the fact we're about to get hit by about the 100th storm dubbed as Blizzard of the Century in the last 10 years, something new has arisen as my little guy has become concerned that despite all the reassurances he's heard about Rudolph with his nose so bright, that maybe it won't be enough this year. I've tried to tell him that Santa could fly that sleigh with one arm tied behind his back, but he remains skeptical. I thought about telling him that everything is GPS these days and that the sleigh practically flies itself, but I'll save that for next year.
Anyway, we're bracing for the storm, remaining fluid in our plans to host my side of the family this weekend and hoping for the best. Stay tuned.
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