In Which It Snows A Whole Whole Bunch, And Connor Is Not Happy

As I was turning onto our street when coming back home from derby practice tonight, a couple of guys on snowmobiles whizzed by me in the other direction.  That gives you some idea of what it looks like outside at the moment.

And yes, of course I went to derby practice in the snow.  I'm from Texas, remember?  This means that I have absolutely no idea how to drive in snow but I believe I can do pretty much anything, because people from Texas have natural roughin' it sort of abilities that make them superior to other people who don't know how to drive in the snow.  Also people from Texas drive really big SUVs with four wheel drive.  All those little efficient Smart Cars non-Texan people drive around here weren't doing so hot, even if they do all have sporty roof racks on them.

Anyway, so outside of our house we no longer have bushes, we have vaguely bush-shaped mounds of snow.  Loki escaped outside today and ran out into the middle of everything, sinking in approximately to his knees.  He made it to the middle of the front yard before he realized that something was very, very wrong.  Where was all the delicious grass to eat, which is why he'd run out there in the first place?  And what was this weird cold white stuff? 

I would like to point out that Loki encounters snow every year, because it takes me twice as long to get the door closed when I'm all bundled up and trying to stomp the snow off my boots before I come inside.  And he does the exact same thing every time.  I swear this cat has roughly the intelligence of a kumquat.

Anyway, so just like last year Loki decided that the proper way to deal with snow would be to jump straight up in a stiff-legged hop, perhaps figuring that he would be able to levitate above the snow and thus not get his feet wet.  When for some inexplicable reason this failed to work and he came down in exactly the same place in the snow, he decided that springing sideways would perhaps work better.

So in the end I had to wade out into the yard and rescue my crazy cat, who was desperately trying (and failing miserably) to defy the law of gravity and was simply managing to coat his entire underside with snow as well as leaving Loki-sized craters an impressive distance apart in the middle of my lawn.

Once I got him inside he of course immediately jumped up into my chair and shook himself, spraying the upholstery and everything else in a five foot radius with melting snow.  Then he demanded to be petted, like he'd done something I should be proud of him for.  He'd vanquished the hideous evil white stuff!  Now he deserved treats!

Sigh.

Connor was not overly thrilled about the snow either.  That is to say he was indifferent about the snow, but he was less than excited about missing school and he hated the hat and gloves I made him wear.  I played Fish The Glove Out Of The Snow Bank quite a bit today, and after a couple of hours between Connor chewing on them and throwing them in the snow there was no point in him wearing them because they were soaked through.  His fleece hat is one of those that fastens under the chin, because other than his yeti hat (which isn't warm enough for this weather) it's the only kind that wouldn't have been following the gloves over the side of the wheelchair.  But we needed to go out and get our dinner fixings for Thanksgiving, so he didn't have a choice about the hat.  Trust me when I say he made his opinion very clear on what he thought about that.

Oh well!  At least I've got the ham in the refrigerator now, so we shouldn't have to venture out tomorrow.  Unless I can't manage to keep Jeremy out of it and he eats it all before Thanksgiving.  It's a distinct possibility.

~Jess