Even the drunk lady came!

Today began with waking up to the snow plow going by, very slowly. And then again on its way back down the road, slowly.

I got up and threw on some sweats and went to let the chickens out. They were cautious about the snow. A Brahmas hen jumped outside without looking first, and then flapped around over top of the snow, yelling. Then the Gentle Giant (big rooster) came out and just stood there, staring. No one else came out. They just peaked around the Gentle Giant.

On the way back from letting the chickens out, I ran into the Deputy Sheriff, who was slowly driving by our house repeatedly. Back and forth. He stopped to talk with me. The snow plow guy didn't like where our truck was parked. He was afraid he might hit it.

"He said he would've told you himself, but he doesn't know you," said the Deputy Sheriff. Apparently, we have a shy snow plow driver.
"I'll just move it."

I went back inside and Little Z was up, saying, "You have coffee yet?" because BAH had told her she could go outside and play in the snow once we had coffee. Little Z had her snow pants and boots on before you could say, "snow pants and boots."

So then, before you knew it, we were outside sledding, having a jolly good time. Until she wanted to try sledding down the hill alone, and she crashed, and cried, and that's when I remembered that Santa Claus himself had planned a highly publicized appearance at the public library today.

"Hey," I said. "You wanna take a break and go see Santa Claus?"
Instantly she stopped crying,

Off we went to the Troll Capital of the World.

When we reached the general vicinity of the library, it became clear that this was going to be a really big deal. We had to park a quarter of a mile away. That didn't matter- Little Z still had her snow suit on! When we reached the inside of the library, we were greeted by a slew of elves. One of them gave us a number to see Santa, 57.

When you live in a small town, our even outside of one, and you have a three year old, you pretty much know everyone else who has a three year old. Everyone in the area with a three year old was there, at the library to see Santa. There were hundreds of us. We ended up waiting one hour and forty minutes to talk with Santa for thirty-five seconds. No matter. There was lots to do there, and you didn't have to wait in a line, because we all had a number. They had crafts and cookies and story time. It was great! Well, okay. It was as fun as it could be.

Everyone there was all dressed up to get their picture taken with Santa. We were quite conspicuously not dressed up. In fact, Little Z was wearing her long underwear pants, and I was wearing those sweats I put on to feed the chickens. I hadn't washed my hair in three days or brushed it at all, and I hadn't brushed Little Z's hair, either. And there was everyone we knew in town to see us, if not dressed to the nines, at least looking very presentable. Even our dental hygentist was there. You see how this happened, though: the chickens, the sheriff, the excitement over the snow, the sled accident- I just forgot to get us dressed properly for Santa.

It wasn't so bad. It's a laid back kind of place, the Troll Capital of the World. But for some reason, people took lots of pictures of us there. I wonder what they were for? I mentioned the picture taking to BAH after we got home,

"Maybe I'll be in the newspaper?" I said.
"The article will say, 'Even the drunk lady came!'"
"I'm not drunk!"
"No, you just look it."

Ah, well.

Santa was nice. Little Z wants a Buzz Lightyear doll for Christmas.


  1. I assure you, from what I've witnessed in the mall, there was absolutely nothing wrong with your Santa soiree attire.

  2. We've all left the house in our chicken sweats from time to time...