am not a yankee
will never be a yankee
so BRING BACK THE SUN

It’s Day Three of the Ice Storm That Won’t Effing Go Away ’07. We have plenty of food and heat and entertainment, but still. You know how beyond the event horizon of a black hole you can’t see any matter or light or anything because it’s past the "abandon all hope ye who enter here" sign and it’s all getting sucked into the black hole no matter what (ba dum bum)? Well, I’m rapidly approaching my very own event horizon. Pretty soon, all toys or dishes I pass will be picked up and thrown into a garbage bag or the garage (a suburban dwellers very own black hole).

We’ve endeavored to clean up our messes and have done a fairly reasonable job. But I haven’t left the house since Saturday, so even tiny little pieces of dust and crumbs are starting to suffocate me.

It looks like the world is starting to melt a little, though, so that’s a very nice sign. And my husband has been here all week, so that’s been nice, too. But we’re ready to get out of the house. All of us. We’ve ventured into the cold and ice a few times to play, but even the wee one is over the excitement of the ice now. Of course, when you have a chance to help mom make banana bread and drop batter all over the floor and then step in the batter by accident, why would ice be any more fun than that?

I was lulled into a false sense of security this morning, while listening to the drips of the melting ice, so I decided to go outside to take a picture. I thought, "Hey, it would be cool to post something icy on the blog." I put on my shoes and coat, grabbed the camera, walked out the front door, and wait for it…. promptly slipped on the ice and fell.

It was one of those falls that goes on forever. First you lose your footing, then you try to right yourself, then you keep falling, then your knees hit the ground, then your knees start sliding and your upper body starts falling and you thrust out your hands, then you realize one of your hands is holding your camera, so you thrust out one hand, then that hand slides, so you put the camera hand down too, and finally, there you are, laying on your driveway, wet and cold, with a couple of banged up knees and a goose-egg on your wrist.

So here’s the damn picture I took:

It’s my neighbor’s house. Her palms are depressed by all the ice. Ba dum bum. Funny enough, it turns out MY palms are depressed by the ice, too. They are red and raw from supporting my flailing body as I King-Kong-crashed on the driveway.

I’m going to go eat banana bread now.