That Four Letter Swear Word

I live with a pretty obscure family. This goes right down to my late grandma, who could shoot out some awesomely colorful language at will. That being said, there aren't many words in our house that are considered swear words anymore. But there is one and it's a doozy.

Snow.

SNOW!

That's worse than saying damn, or shit, or that f word that is a little too common around here. When you live in Western Pa, where the weather is as reliable as , well, pigs flying and snowballs surviving in hell, you come to hate that word like it's your arch enemy; an evil villain of movies far less sinister than my preferred Disney ones.

Today, my mom and I set out on an adventure. At any other time of the year this would be a mere shopping trip, but at Christmas it becomes an adventure scarier than Ghost Adventures. Sure, we could get online and order stuff off of Amazon, but it's so impersonal, so non-festive.

Normally, by this time of the year, I am done Christmas shopping. In fact, I've usually got it all wrapped up in October or early November, at latest. Much to my chagrin, I am behind this year and I am freaking out. It's possible that's the understatement of the year.

I was hellbent on getting my shopping done today. So was my mom. We merrily set out on a trip that was sure to bring us home annoyed with the crowds, and angry that our lives didn't allow us to shop earlier, but we had our battle gear on, so we had it covered.

And then it snowed.

And I'm not talking about this kind of snow.

Or this kind.

Nope, I'm talking about this stuff. The real, genuine article.

And it was okay when we started out because it was only doing this.

Those little snowflakes fluttered haplessly and didn't lay anywhere. This was fine. Then we turned the corner of one road and BAM! We had this.

Uh huh. Damn you, snow. You are the worst four letter word in the book.

We trudged on to get one gift, deliver a card to an older lady, and then to Target. But eventually we were forced to retreat to our cozy abode when we could no longer distinguish the road from anything else.

By the time we got home, our once clear steps looked like this. Actually, there was a little less snow and then we walked in it and made prints. By the time I got back out to take this picture, those prints were gone. Evil snow.

Our railing and sad attempt at Christmas lights that worked until we put them up looked like this.

Ashlee the goose was clearly pissed off because he / she / it lost a hate and was freezing. We didn't help Ashlee regain it.

But the reindeer was happy. So happy, in fact, that it was gloating. Can you tell by it's illuminating essence?

So Santa, if you're out there somewhere, we are behind and need your help. We have a nice lawn where your reindeer can stay, snow ready and all, while you make them, so that you have extra elves to help who don't have to worry about feeding, hugging, or reading stories to the reindeer. Only reindeer would be happy in this weather.

Don't get me wrong, snow is pretty. Pretty right up until two days down when everyone's walked in it and the snowplows have mucked it up, but you still can't get out of your house for another week. (Here's looking at you, last winter.) Then it's just a four letter swear word.

And how do we plan on finishing our Christmas shopping, you may wonder. We came home and unfestively ordered things we didn't know we wanted or needed off of Amazon. In all fairness, we will have to go back out for two cards and one scarf, so we're still festively awesome, right? No. I didn't think so either.

But on the bright side, I ordered my own stuff for my mom, so I know what I'm getting for Christmas. You know, unless Santa comes through with that trade.

And in the spirit of the season and showing some love, don't forget to check out Miss Zoey's new blog. You'll love it, and her. I promise.