Let it Melt, Let it Melt, Let it Melt. . .

I love snow . . . right when it is falling and soft and flaky and white and pristine. New Year's week was beautiful. When you have nowhere to go and nothing to do but curl up by the wood stove and watch movies or make food. Luxury, by the way, when you have power in the snow :) Playing in it is fun, although snow angels are a little tricky when you are about six months pregnant. I decided to forgo the pleasure. Max's favorite snow trick is to throw himself head first into a bank and then laugh his head off. Our dog Bruce loves to play in it. I swear that our Mississippi born canine has some serious sled dog blood in him. We make snowballs and he catches them in mid-air. Here are some beautiful pictures of post snow fun in Strawberry a couple of weeks ago.

Now here is the reality. Snow is nasty, cold, and turns into icy cement after a couple of days. Jack's bug looks really cute all snow covered, then you realize that you have to dig it out of the driveway to get to work. Now all of the snow on the roads is brown and slush/ice. I've busted my butt on the ice covered parking lot at church. I'm watching stupid people from Phoenix sledding on the remnants of snow in front of WalMart. I'm tired of scraping my windshield every morning to get to work. Too Much Information Alert: my pregnant chest is aching from the chill air and I feel like a walrus disguised as an Eskimo when I dress for church. Think retro leggings with fluffy knee high socks and snow boots--all encasing swollen legs and ankles.

The sun has done an admirable job of melting a lot of it. I can actually see dried grass in patches, when it's not turned into mud, and the deadly four foot long icicles on my front porch have all gone. Hallelujah! The walkways and parking lot at school are less treacherous, and I've substituted my snow boots with sensible Velcro Mary Janes. How very stylish of me! I'm doing a little snow-melt dance here in the mountains (carefully, so as not to disturb my precarious balance), and it's slowly working. And I'm smiling, grinning from ear to ear because the crazy child doing flips in my womb is Kizzie Elizabeth Fleming. A girl!!!!!! I gladly give up my sanity and ankles and comfortable nights for this sweet blessing. We have had her name handy since before Max was born, and I have a feeling that she will take after both of her namesakes: strong and most-likely sassy Southern women who make the best of rough situations. Both Kizzie Bond and Kizzie Fleming are smiling from the spirit world and can't wait for their great great great granddaughter to be born. Right now I'm 23 weeks along; Kizzie is about a pound and head to butt measuring about 8 inches. She kicks the daylights out of me about 6 to 7 times a day and probably enjoys listening to her active big brother drive me crazy. I promise to allow someone besides Max take pictures of my prego belly and I will post them soon.

Love you all.