Sunday Fun Day | Tuesday Snow Day

Two days ago we spent the entire day outside cleaning out the garage, washing windows, planting flowers. The girls played in the front and back yards until they were exhausted. The high was 74 and we were all smiles, and couldn't get enough of the gorgeous sunshine! Toward the end of the day, Terry and I had things wrapped up and were about to take the girls inside to start dinner when I heard a haunting sound. Our neighborhood ice cream truck was slowly rolling down our street playing the most ominous ice cream truck music ever.

There's always the deeply disturbing thought in the back of my head that ice cream trucks are all full of dozens of freakish, homicidal clowns ready to leap out, stuff my wriggling body into a potato sack and take me to the Big Top to torture me after the sun goes down.

We stayed close to our girls while they picked out their treats, just in case any maniacal clowns with smeared make-up tried anything stupid. We made it home safely and the girls gobbled up their Spiderman and Sponge Bob Popsicles. I ate an enormous Neapolitan ice cream sandwich and Gracie let me take a big chunk out of Spiderman's head, which was delicious.

I'd love to know why every single ice cream truck I've ever seen perusing down my street looks like it was tossed 1,000 feet during a tornado. How the hell do they get so busted up? What the hell are people doing to these trucks when they buy ice cream?? I've never even touched the outside of one. Why are there five different coats of paint chipping off? Who actually touches an ice cream truck? Typically, don't you simply reach your hand up and take your frozen selection from the scuzzy truck driver's hand? Leaving the side of the truck unscathed? I don't get it. Every one I've seen looks like it's been through a demolition derby.

This morning we woke up to 33 degrees and snow. Fat and fluffy snowflakes dancing down from the sky. The girls laughed at our poor outdoor cat, Chelsea, who struggled to find even a small piece of dry grass to you-know-what. We laughed at her expense while she went potty without squatting. The ground was much too cold for her precious little butt to touch. Meanwhile, our two less deserving, spoiled rotten indoor cats were staring out the window wondering if the world was ending.