It started snowing an hour before the kids got out of school for break two weeks ago. It almost hasn't stopped at all since. The piles of snow in front of our houses in my neighbourhood? Taller than I am. "It doesn't snow in Vancouver" my fat white ass. I meant to take pictures, I really did, but I wasn't blogging and you know how that goes. And now the gorgeous snow hills are the same shade of gray as death and just look less gorgeous and more dirty-icebergish.
So we spent the majority of Christmas break running out early to buy the winter pants and boots that Santa fully intended to bring a few days later, because damn him and his deadlines that have nothing to do with the actual weather outside, hanging out at home, playing outside, sledding and pelting each other with snowballs. And shoveling, oh the shoveling. Good thing I'm the only person here from Colorado; I smoked those bitches asses at shoveling the street. That Dirty American isn't so aggravating anymore, is she?
And then it was Jesus' birthday, so we opened some presents on his behalf (which was fine with him; he hasn't worn a kids' size 12 coats in ages) and ate some food. Okay, we ate all the food. I cooked for five. Thousand. It was epic, and then it was New Years, and tomorrow the kids go back to school.
The rest are slowly being added to FlickR.
And tomorrow, I tell you what this picture is all about.
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