These are some photos that I found on the web of the last ice storm here in Kansas.
Hi there,
Oh my, it's just after midnight here. Things are pretty quiet. I have bodies of kids and dogs splayed out every which way on couches, and all over the floor, of my living room. No blood, and I'm relatively sure that they are all still breathing - just sleeping like rocks. Nick is on the couch, and I've had to wake him a couple of times to have him re-adjust himself; his head keeps tilting over at an odd angle that looks so painful. It reminds me of when they were babies. For years, I couldn't sleep without checking each bed, or crib, before I turned off the lights, and some of their sleeping positions would induce either laughter or panic, depending on the night.
With 90% of the furniture space filled with kids, the poor dogs have been reduced to sleeping on the floor. Getting from one end of the living room to the other, is much like a game of twister. I can always tell if Peter is really sleeping, or just napping. When he is really asleep, his tongue sticks out of his mouth about an inch or two. When he wakes up, the end of his tongue is dried out and stuck in that position. He usually walks around for several minutes, completely oblivious of how ridiculous he looks. When we giggle at him, he perks up his ears, wrinkles up his forehead, and quizzically tilts his head at us, which is absolutely hysterical. Eventually, he saunters off to dip his tongue in the water dish and get "unstuck".
The freezing rain and sleet has been falling since around noon, but it's such a light, misty kind of rain that the streets were fine, as long as people were out and about. But now that the traffic has all but disappeared, I've been watching the big city salt trucks cruise up and down the streets with their lights flashing. It's funny how things like that become such a mental trigger for all kinds of memories. As a child, laying in bed at night, seeing the truck's yellow bubble lights shine through the bed room window and reflect onto the walls around my bedroom. And wishing and praying that they would run out of salt so that they would cancel school the next day. Or watching the trucks pass by the window as a wife and mother, waiting for the return home of my husband, or a child that is new to winter driving. But the low rumble of the engines, and the slow flashing yellow lights always mean winter and home for me.
However, this is NOT the "ice storm" that everyone has been fearing. I'm a little disappointed. Once every four or five years we get a good one that shuts the city down. (and the last one was about 6 years ago.) And in their own way, the ice storms are beautiful. Everything sparkles as though it's coated in crystal. The trees are especially beautiful. Unfortunately, it usually only lasts a few days. Eventually, the sun melts the ice, or the weight becomes too much, and there comes a day when all you can hear is snap, crackle, crash. The last ice storm took a full year to recover from. There were designated debris sites all over the city, where people brought their branches. Those sites literally became small mountains of sticks. ( 4-5 stories high) It took all summer, and most of the fall, for the city to haul it all away and chip them into mulch.
Well, my husband, Mr. Excitement, toddled off to bed right after dinner, around 8:30 pm. I'm thinking that I need to go join him soon. I'm just rambling anyway. I think I'll leave all these sleepy heads right where they are. They're too big to carry, and their old enough to get themselves off to bed when their tired. Regardless, I'll be waking up to a living room that looks like a motel room in need of maid service.
I hope everyone has/had a great weekend.
Love,
Susan
Oh my, it's just after midnight here. Things are pretty quiet. I have bodies of kids and dogs splayed out every which way on couches, and all over the floor, of my living room. No blood, and I'm relatively sure that they are all still breathing - just sleeping like rocks. Nick is on the couch, and I've had to wake him a couple of times to have him re-adjust himself; his head keeps tilting over at an odd angle that looks so painful. It reminds me of when they were babies. For years, I couldn't sleep without checking each bed, or crib, before I turned off the lights, and some of their sleeping positions would induce either laughter or panic, depending on the night.
With 90% of the furniture space filled with kids, the poor dogs have been reduced to sleeping on the floor. Getting from one end of the living room to the other, is much like a game of twister. I can always tell if Peter is really sleeping, or just napping. When he is really asleep, his tongue sticks out of his mouth about an inch or two. When he wakes up, the end of his tongue is dried out and stuck in that position. He usually walks around for several minutes, completely oblivious of how ridiculous he looks. When we giggle at him, he perks up his ears, wrinkles up his forehead, and quizzically tilts his head at us, which is absolutely hysterical. Eventually, he saunters off to dip his tongue in the water dish and get "unstuck".
The freezing rain and sleet has been falling since around noon, but it's such a light, misty kind of rain that the streets were fine, as long as people were out and about. But now that the traffic has all but disappeared, I've been watching the big city salt trucks cruise up and down the streets with their lights flashing. It's funny how things like that become such a mental trigger for all kinds of memories. As a child, laying in bed at night, seeing the truck's yellow bubble lights shine through the bed room window and reflect onto the walls around my bedroom. And wishing and praying that they would run out of salt so that they would cancel school the next day. Or watching the trucks pass by the window as a wife and mother, waiting for the return home of my husband, or a child that is new to winter driving. But the low rumble of the engines, and the slow flashing yellow lights always mean winter and home for me.
However, this is NOT the "ice storm" that everyone has been fearing. I'm a little disappointed. Once every four or five years we get a good one that shuts the city down. (and the last one was about 6 years ago.) And in their own way, the ice storms are beautiful. Everything sparkles as though it's coated in crystal. The trees are especially beautiful. Unfortunately, it usually only lasts a few days. Eventually, the sun melts the ice, or the weight becomes too much, and there comes a day when all you can hear is snap, crackle, crash. The last ice storm took a full year to recover from. There were designated debris sites all over the city, where people brought their branches. Those sites literally became small mountains of sticks. ( 4-5 stories high) It took all summer, and most of the fall, for the city to haul it all away and chip them into mulch.
Well, my husband, Mr. Excitement, toddled off to bed right after dinner, around 8:30 pm. I'm thinking that I need to go join him soon. I'm just rambling anyway. I think I'll leave all these sleepy heads right where they are. They're too big to carry, and their old enough to get themselves off to bed when their tired. Regardless, I'll be waking up to a living room that looks like a motel room in need of maid service.
I hope everyone has/had a great weekend.
Love,
Susan
