Category: Work

My emotions are all over the place lately.

I mean, it’s a well known fact that I cry at the drop of a hat, but it’s getting a little crazy.

I think the looming end of Harry Potter is to blame. Honestly.

For the past few months, I have been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks from the very beginning of the series. I am finally a little over half-way through the seventh book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but it’s been a long road.  I’m just so invested in them and I’m going to be really sad once the last movie comes out and ends it all. I know that the books and movies will live on, but for the past ten years, it’s like I have had either a book or a movie to look forward to. It’s all just going to be over.

(Oh hey, Melodramatic-Katie. I didn’t know you were going to be here today!)

The thing is… since I’ve been breathing Harry Potter for the past few months, my mind is pretty much saturated with Harry Potter information. I use Harry Potter references in my everyday conversations. I’m not mad about this at all, but I think it concerns others, or just leaves them feeling confused. (And I really wouldn’t consider this an unhealthy addiction or obsession or anything, seriously.  I mean, I know someone who is inappropriately obsessed with something of late and I am nowhere near her level of insanity. I just wanted to make that clear… lol.)

Back to my emotions… I promise all of this is relevant.

I do, however, want to preface this example of out-of-control emotions with the fact that I happened to be intoxicated when this event occurred and that this might not count.  So, a few weeks ago, my brother and I had some people over to his house to hang out (and then The Tripod left to go to the bars- you know how we do.) and get crazy. Right before we left, I’m actually not sure what triggered this but whatever, we ended up shouting curses and jinxes at each other. Like, we were having our very own wizard’s duel.  It started between the two other legs of the tripod and myself but then Drew got involved.  Right when I was about to shout Expelliarmus at him, he hurled Aveda Kedavra at me.  It was at that moment that I burst into tears and the duel ended.

Megan stared at us in incredulity while Seneca watched in awe as Drew quickly showed remorse for yelling the Killing Curse my way.  He wrapped me in a hug and told me that he didn’t mean it and that he loved me.  It got serious.  I had immediately told him that it wasn’t nice to kill me and that I would absolutely die if anything ever happened to him and that he should never use that curse, ever.

It was ridiculous, to say the very least. But, every time I think about it, I laugh. It’s funny and cute and kind of a heartwarming moment between him and me.

A couple weeks ago, I was driving home from work and it happened to coincide with the time (Oh Em Gee, Spoiler Alert) Dumbledore dies near the end of HP6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.  It also happened to be after a particularly long day of work when I was still very sick and I was exhausted.  So, naturally, when JKR begins her description of the grief expressed by all of the characters in the book, I began to weep as well. Once it started, I couldn’t stop.  I was bawling my eyes out the entire forty-five minutes it takes for me to get home from work.  By the time I got home, my face was red and puffy, I no longer had any eye makeup on, and I was doing that weird hiccup-breathing from the heaving sobs that had flowed out of me.

And just yesterday, I was driving home from work when (SPOILER ALERT) Dobby died.  I sob uncontrollably when I watch the movie (EVERY SINGLE TIME), so it’s no surprise that the book brought me to tears.  The grief Harry experiences, the burial, the words Luna says on his behalf… I just think all of it is so precious and heartbreaking.  Dobby was so pure of heart and an innocent, and the loss of his life is a travesty. Bellatrix Lestrange sucks, and I hate her.

It just seems like I’m always in my car when I’m having these emotional events.

This has got to stop! Except, I never want it to because that would require me to not listen to Harry Potter in my car, and I just don’t want to stop doing that. It makes my commute enjoyable.

Anyway, I guess my point is that I never would have guessed I would have gotten so involved in the series when I first picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.  Not in a million years.  Even upon seeing the first film, I never thought I would feel such an affinity towards these characters and this world J.K. Rowling created. I just don’t know what I’ll do when it’s all over. Maybe once it’s over I won’t be so weepy about all things Harry Potter. Probably not, though.

Does anyone else feel this way about Harry Potter?! I know I can’t be alone in this.


On Monday morning, one of my coworkers alerted me that the world was predicted to be ending this coming Friday, as in Tomorrow. She said she heard on the radio that we could forget about coming into work on Saturday because the world was ending Friday night. I don’t know if this was a national prediction or if it was just one that was spread through West Michigan, but either way, I guess people were pretty serious about it on Monday morning.

Obviously, she was sharing this news with us to mock the crazy people who 1.) predicted this, and 2.) called into the radio station to discuss their plans for the week to prepare for the world ending on Friday night.  In fact, the seven minutes following her divulgence of this information, those of us in the office mocked the general public and made sarcastic comments about not being “saved” and how we’d be left on earth to face Hell (except I was serious about experiencing hell- because let’s get real, I’m definitely on God’s shit list).

Seriously, if I’m going to believe anyone about the world ending, I’m going to believe the Mayans or Aztecs or whoever the fuck came up with that calendar that ends in 2012. (I’m clearly well-versed in end-of-the-world conspiracy theories.) I just feel like that’s probably legit.  At least, more legit than some rando hyper-religious alcoholic/meth-head cult leader sitting in a lazyboy in the middle of a corn field during his four day bender shouting at his cows that the world is going to end. I mean, that profile may not be accurate, but it’s probably pretty close.

If the world does end tomorrow night, though, I’m gonna be pretty pissed.  I did not live this week as if it was my last.  I mean, I did get drunk on a Monday night and I did get to color code my planner up to the first week of July, but that is just not enough.  I mean, just today I spent my free time this evening finding a new ringtone, doodling in my econ notebook because I didn’t feel like thinking, poking around on facebook, twitter and tumblr, making dinner and taking care of Chiefy, who, incidentally, is experiencing some health issues.

The world just can’t end tomorrow. I haven’t had a chance to wear out my new ringtone. I haven’t had a chance to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2. I haven’t gone on my Study Abroad trip yet! I still have Taylor Swift’s concert to look forward to in July. My driver’s license doesn’t expire until 2013! I have food in the fridge that is still good after tomorrow.

Even if the world ends tomorrow and a bunch of people get to be saved by Jesus, I hope I’m left here.  With all the other ruffians and rejects. It’ll probably be more fun anyway because the only people left will be those with a sick sense of humor and a moral compass that doesn’t point due north, like myself. We’ll have a blast. And that way, I can still use my non-expired driver’s license and enjoy all the food still in the fridge. And all of Hollywood will still be here (because they’re fucked), so I can still see HP7.2 in July when I get home from Europe. Basically, my life will be no different.

So, I guess, here’s what I have to say about the end of the world, should it come tomorrow night: bring it. I’m ready.

I guess this might see unrelated, but maybe I'll do this sexy hair shake in preparation for the world ending.

Here is what I have learned about success:

It’s all about managing expectations.

For example, I try to go first whenever I can when giving presentations in class.  That way, no matter how ill-prepared I may be or how often I fumble over my words or even how lame my powerpoint presentation really is, there is no one to compare it to yet.  Going first allows the presenter to set the expectations for the rest of the presentations and is the one that the rest are measured against.

If I can help it, I never, ever go last.  Going last is simply not an option.  I’m not that much of a douche bag that I will email my professor ahead of time and insist on going first, but I definitely try to be that person that is like, “Oh, yeah, no big deal, I’ll go first if no one else wants to.” You know, all nonchalant.  And when someone else is like “Oh, I want to go first!” (because that always happens- there are always other freaks like me who want to set the bar low) I’m always like *Hulk’d up* NO I’M GOING FIRST, YOU IDIOT FUCK!

Just kidding, I don’t turn green, grow three times my regular size, or bust out of my white (??) shirt and purple pants.  I don’t even shout at my classmates. I simply keep it real and let everyone know what’s up: I must go first.

In life, I finally learned to be that kid at a birthday party to have her gift opened first.  There were far too many times I tried to be that girl whose present was so good it had to be saved for last. You know, that whole save the best for last bullshit.  But what parents don’t tell you and what you learn after birthday party after birthday party is that it sucks when someone else gives the same gift as you- or worse, someone gives a better present than yours.  That is a situation that takes you on a bullet train to Sucktown.

The best time to give your gift is first.  That way, you have the best gift of the day, even if it’s just for a moment.  That’s a moment you can’t get back. And, that way, if there is a duplicate gift situation, you don’t look like a dickhole and you don’t have to sit in the corner and cry because someone gave the same gift you did.  You can know that you have won. (Because winning is really all that matters- ask Charlie Sheen.)

At work, you have to manage expectations too. If you do something really impressive one day that is something that is expected to be repeated, you better believe that you have just set a precedent.  You will be held to that standard from now on.  That is totally fine if you don’t mind working your butt off to constantly exceed expectations and/or consistently perform at a high level.  But if you’re lazy as fuck and it was done on a fluke, then you’re pretty much up Chocolate Creek without a popsicle stick. If you’re lazy as fuck at work and really just want to do the least amount of work as possible, then you should never do anything more than what is expected of you. Because that is the kiss of death for you, and you can no longer be lazy as fuck.

I have finally realized that even dealing with some family drama, it all comes down to managing expectations.  Drew and I have tried (and failed at) the being-sneaky approach- that just ends in tears (including my own). We can’t just lie about our plans and spring them on a certain person at the last minute- a shitstorm of drama explodes out of seemingly nowhere.  We have also tried the let’s-be-really-vague-about-our-plans approach and that just ended in bitterness, shouting, resentment, anger, and, yes, you guessed it, tears (including my own).  Being vague has usually just resulted in having to lie (which we all know I am not good at) and/or just really awful family moments.

So, this time, we are trying the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach.  This approach includes telling both parties exactly what’s up and setting clear expectations for everyone involved. That way, when the time comes to leave, no one is surprised or upset.  I’m psyched about this.

Here’s hoping.

So, my friends, go forth and embrace this managing expectations lifestyle I have adopted.  Share with me your success stories. Or just stories about your childhood birthday parties. I would enjoy that as well.

Until my class ends, you’re going to be experiencing really sub-par posts.  I just can’t seem to get a handle on my time-management.  For instance, while I got home today at an hour that allowed for plenty of time to achieve all of the things I needed to complete today, my time management was seriously lacking.

For instance, I meant to go to my gym this morning.  Instead, I slept in until 9:17 am and proceeded to take a thirty minute shower.  Why the hell!? What a waste of water.  And all I did was sing loudly and stand under the hot water until I decided, oh, yeah, maybe I should stop being a life-ruiner and wasting all of this water.   I mean, I didn’t even deep condition my hair, for goodness sake.  Sometimes I justify an excessively long shower by putting on a three-to-five minute conditioning treatment. Or sometimes, I justify it by shaving my legs.  I didn’t do either of those things today. Even though my legs are embarrassingly hairy right now.

Then, because my life is obviously a mess, I went to the doctor’s office to have my blood drawn for another appointment I have next week.  (Nothing major- don’t freak out.) The only thing is, my doctor is an hour away from where I live. Why is that, you might ask? Because I never have my shit together or all my ducks in a row enough to have all of my essential, necessary-for-life things all in one place.  That would be too easy.  So, I listened to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (OH MY GAWD, IT’S SO GOOD! HOW COULD I NOT HAVE READ THIS BOOK AGAIN SINCE 2004- OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!) on CD for, like, 48 minutes because I had a moment of ADD while driving where it was seriously like, zomg I can’t focus on listening right now, I need to sing my face off to some Glee covers right now, in the middle of my trip back to O-Town, but after Pokerface (with the lovely Idina Menzel) I feel I can actively listen to Harry Potter again.

So, then, I panicked in the doctor’s office because I really don’t like needles and blood really freaks me out. (Do we not all remember my bloody nose?!) But, turns out, that procedure takes all of, like, 45 seconds to complete. So I was in and out of that office.

I managed to make it to the library before all 8 or 9 of my items expired and I was hit with some outrageous fees.  I also picked up a few items that were waiting for me (The Office, Season 4; Now that’s what I call Club Hits, and Total Club Hits 2). Before you even ask, I’ll tell you why I wanted some club hits.  It’s because I’ve been trying to perfect my fist-pump so I can rock the clubs like those hooligans from the Jersey Shore.  Bahahaha! No, actually, it’s because those CDs have songs I like that have been remixed to have higher beats per minute.  I’ve been trying to create a kick-ass workout playlist so I don’t want to die when I’m at the gym.

I stopped by the bank after that and transferred some funds for my Study Abroad trip, which I’m so excited for.  Have I told you all about that yet? No? Looks like that will have to come at a later date.

I did have a long, fun lunch with one member of the Tripod, which was glorious. But after that was done, I had to drive another hour back to where I actually live.  I listened to HP the whole way home this time.  I was in a bit of a food coma, so listening was really I was capable of doing anyway.

Next, I wandered around my school trying to locate the stupid Study Abroad office. It is like Narnia or something. I have looked and looked and looked on more than one occasion and I cannot find it.  It is obviously not at all like the Room of Requirement; otherwise it would have appeared to me on one of the few occasions I have been wandering around looking for it.  And don’t tell me to just ask someone, because I totally have.  The yahoos at the information desk either don’t know where it is either or they just don’t know how to effectively communicate to me where the location of the office is.  And the office where I ended up today seemed confounded and didn’t even know where it was or how to explain how to find it to me.  Some lady told me to go to the other end of the building and that Alex’s office was on the left. The left of what?! I walked to the other end of the building and looked like an idiot, wandering around trying to find an office that will not reveal itself to me.

Sucktown, population: me.

Instead, I snuck into my mom’s office, stole one of her envelopes, wrote Alex (the study abroad advisor I have been in contact with) on the envelope along with my name and student number, sealed my first payment check inside and called it good. I told those yahoos at the information desk to just put it in his mailbox.

Then I came home, and that’s where time got away from me.  One minute I was listening to my club hits and then I got a text message about a theme day at work tomorrow, Major League Baseball.  I don’t even know what that means.  I guessed that that meant I should wear something to do with the Detroit Tigers because that’s baseball.  But then I realized I, of course, do not own anything that is Tigers- related, and I won’t just not participate in theme days. I love theme days! So you can bet your bottom dollar I went out and bought a Tigers shirt that was somewhat cute- and it was 25% off to boot!

But, because we live in the middle of BFE, it takes like 40 minutes to get anywhere. So that was a giant waste of time- except for the fact that I got to listen to Harry Potter again so it wasn’t that big of a waste.

I stumbled upon a website called Tastefully Offensive, and that was a giant time-suck.  I just kept watching video after video and giggling to myself on the couch.  I had every intention of editing a group project paper, but that didn’t start until about 8 o’clock, and it was much bigger of a task than I had originally thought. So now, I’m writing this post at the last possible second and it’s all about crap you don’t care about. And my contacts are starting to stick to my eyes and I really just want to be in my bed watching Twilight or The Office or something.

So, yeah.


Today, my friends, at Adventures from Grandma’s Attic, I am gonna show you how to make a homemade card.

We’re doing this because

  1. It’s my blog.
  2. What I say goes
  3. I had to make a card for work
  4. I didn’t know what else to blog about, so I took the opportunity while I had it

So, the Powers That Be at my place of employment decided that tomorrow, Friday, April 1, should be a Support Our Troops kind of day. Community day for the Armed Forces, the memo said. And, since I tend to:

a.)    be the co-chair of goodwill and all things creative and artsy (despite my lack of actual talent) OR

b.)    the ambassador of coloring during work hours/for actual work purposes

the honor of creating the actual card to send out to the troops was bestowed upon me.

Not that I’m complaining.

So, without further ado, here we go….!

First, this is all the stuff I used:

I want to note that I made all of my cut outs by using my Cricut.  I didn’t include a picture of me using my cricut because it’s a huge ordeal, and because I did all of my cutting last night and didn’t think to take pictures. Basically, I love my cricut and it really improved the quality of my scrapbooking pages (and has come in handy for other craft projects). I can’t imagine going back to the days of not being able to use one.  It’s an amazing tool.

Next, I loaded up my letters and stuck them in my sticker maker.  I have the 2.5 inch sticker maker by XYRON. The 5 inch and the 1.5 inch sticker makers are really nice, too, though and would work just as well. I load all of my letters on at one time to save time and not waste any adhesive.

This is what the front of the card looked like after I put all my letter stickers on.  It still looked a little sparse, so I did this next:

I gathered my star and firework cutouts.

I loaded them into the sticker maker.

This is what spits out after they’ve become stickers.

After I placed my star cut-outs on the front of the card, this is what happened:

Look how cute that is!!

Note: I kind of stole this from the internet.  I was trying to think of something cute and nice to put on said card, so I googled something like “support our troops homemade card ideas” and found something similar to this. This is the link to the website I found, and it had a lot of cute cards.

It was time to work on the inside once the front was complete.

I used my roll-on adhesive to line one side of my cut-out.  This red border was going to outline my text.

I stuck it down in the middle of the card.

If I wanted to get really fancy, I could have cut out more letters or found some fancy font to copy but I just used my own handwriting to write the message on the inside.  I thought it looked a little jank without a little pizzazz, so I added my leftover stars to spruce it up a bit.

Then I called it good.

The girls at work and I will sign it tomorrow and send it off to bring a little cheer to our troops, wherever they may be.


I’ve been menstruating since, like, sixth grade. Blood coming out of my body is not necessarily a new thing.

But, um, that blood comes out of my vagina. And it’s regular, you know? Like, I can pretty much count on it.  And when I forget about it, I just have to remember the last time I cried in my bed for three days in a row for no particular reason (e.g. Drew uses the last of the milk on his second bowl of cereal Christmas morning; a stranger at Meijer gives me a dirty look; a Folgers Coffee commercial on TV) and I’ll realize that it’s about that time again.

But, this morning, when I realized that my body was gushing blood, I freaked the fuck out.

I do not like blood. I’d be, like, the worst vampire ever. It makes me queasy. Ever since Drew wrecked his face and I had to run from the neighbor’s house at age 5 (or something?) to tell our parents Drew’s lip was … not really on his face anymore, things just haven’t been okay for me and Blood. Even when it comes out of my vagina, I have to distance myself from it; I have to pretend it’s not really blood. Ugh. I have the willies just thinking about it.

Anyway, this gushing blood? It was not coming from my ladybox.

(Sorry I talked about my vagina, Drew.)

I can’t even tell you the last time I had a bloody nose.

Even though I’m clumsy as fuck and run into shit all the time, I haven’t hit my nose in a way that makes it bleed. When Drew chucked a tennis ball at my face, my nose didn’t bleed.

I wasn’t even participating in a strenuous activity. Nothing happened. There was no trauma to my face.

(This leads me to believe that something exploded in my brain and that I’m probably going to die.)

I was driving to work this morning, just driving along listening to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on CD when OUT OF NOWHERE my nose started gushing blood. Literally. I couldn’t get a Kleenex to my face fast enough. There was SO MUCH BLOOD. And it was everywhere.

I was so ill-equipped.  What, with the almost-empty, smashed-to-hell box of Kleenex I keep in my car, the fact I was driving at a barely-legal 78 miles an hour on I-96 at 8am, and OH YEAH I HAVE NEVER HAD A BLOODY NOSE AND ALL OF MY FIRST-AID TRAINING APPARENTLY FLEW OUT OF MY BRAIN IN A PANIC BECAUSE I DO NOT POSSESS GRACE UNDER FIRE.

My intention was that I would be able to stop at Starbucks or Beaners (fuck that, I refuse to call it Biggby) to grab a caramel macchiato or chai latte (respectively) and make it to work on time. Ohhhh, no. That did not happen, although I did pull into the Starbucks parking lot to try to stop the bleeding. To no avail.

I drove the rest of the way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my nose while I called my mother in a panic (she didn’t pick up; she doesn’t love me.) and machine gun-like sobs escaped from my lungs. I cried my way to work with a Kleenex shoved up my left nostril.

So attractive.

When I finally got to work, it looked like I had killed someone.

There was blood ALL OVER my scarf (the one Drew brought home for me from VIENNA!), my coat, the steering wheel in my car, my pants, both of my hands and all down my arms.

I was a fucking mess.

Seriously, that kid on youtube who got all upset about the blood? You know what I’m talking about: BLOOD?! NOT FUNNYYYYYYY!!! He was fucking right.

I even opened the first aid kit I keep in my car for sanitizing wipes to wipe all of the blood off of my hands and the steering wheel.  It only kinda worked, though, because the first aid kit is kinda old and it has been sitting in my car for a while so the wet-wipe thing I used was dried out.  So, mostly, I dumped a fuck-ton of antibacterial hand gel everywhere and wiped with the not-wet-at-all wet-wipe (because I DIDN’T HAVE ANYMORE KLEENEX LEFT!). Things didn’t really work out for me this morning as I was self-conscious about my bloody-ness all day long.

Here’s the silver lining though: at least this didn’t happen on a Monday. My whole week would have been fucked.

(OMG I can’t believe I’m even about to say this- because it’s terrible and very, very offensive, but oh well I’m going to anyway…) All I could think of, though, through the whole ordeal: If I had The HIV, this would be a nightmare. And if I was a hemophiliac, I would be so fucked right now.

So in case you live under a rock, there was a giant snowstorm that hit Michigan (and some other places too) this week.  As far as I know, it was pretty much one giant snowday.

While it seemed like every school and place of business had waved the white flag of defeat at the snow and Mother Nature, I just had a feeling that the Bank would say a big Eff You to all of it and open at our normal time.

There had been big talk about this Snopocolypse 2011. The National Weather Service had been issuing alerts and shiz since Monday- or maybe even before. I only heard the Blizzard of Oz was on its way because it seemed like every single one of my customers was asking me if I was ready for the snowstorm. I just pretended I knew what any of them were talking about. I had heard estimates of Snowmageddon, ranging from 12 to 16 inches. Holy shit that’s a lot of snow.

But I’m no idiot.

I am no longer that hopeful child, praying to the Snow Gods for a snowday. I’m not that middle schooler who purposely “forgot” to do her “homework” because she was holding out hope for the elusive snowday.  Ohhh, no. I am no longer an innocent.

I’m a realist, bitches.

With all this talk of Snotorious B.I.G., I was sure it wouldn’t come. I was sure we would see maybe six inches of snow. I was sure that all of those dickholes who were already celebrating the forthcoming snowday were celebrating prematurely. I guess the joke would have been on me since snowdays had already been called but still. Everyone else got to celebrate and I didn’t. I didn’t get to celebrate because I knew the Bank would not close. Not for anything. Not even for Snotorious B.I.G.

I mean, I wasn’t due into work at 12:15 pm so I figured that would give me plenty of time to hang out and wait for those six inches of snow I was predicting to be cleared.

I got a call at 7:30 am from my boss saying that the Bank would be opening at 11am rather than our regular 9 am. That was when I thought that maybe Snotorious B.I.G. had made an appearance.

After that first phone call, I slipped out of bed and poked my head around the blinds on my sliding glass door. Holy shit. We got a fuck-ton of snow.

Weather is voodoo magic and shouldn’t be fucked around with. Meteorologists are overpaid slackers. They don’t know shit.

I should have known when I was woken up by the sound of Thundersnow & Lightning. Awesome and totally outrageous. Talk about snOMG!

I shit you not, there is currently a three-foot drift right outside my bedroom.

At ten o’clock, my boss was on a call with our market team trying to assess the situation and to figure out if and/or when we should open our branch.

Long story short, the Bank didn’t open.

Hallelujah!! Snow. Day.

The only thing was that we were asked to provide updates on the roads and weather situation in our area.  My first update was that while we had managed to dig out our driveway (despite the fact that we have a plow service come every day to clear off our driveway), our roads hadn’t been plowed and there was a sheet of ice under all the snow. That was when I had a really good idea.

And by really good idea I mean terrible and completely dim-witted.

I actually managed to convince my mother to venture out into the frozen tundra.  You know, to be able to provide accurate updates on our road and weather conditions. Dude, I was doing my job.

Needless to say, we got stuck in the snow.

Tam’s cute little hybrid Saturn Vue couldn’t handle all the snow.  We even took the long way home after the first time we got stuck. And after we got stuck the second and third time. The last time, though, it was a situation too big for us to handle ourselves.

I called AAA to have them help us.  We were stuck in a biiiiiig way, and we needed some serious help. But, uhm, AAA can S my D because they would not help us. Apparently, because one of the roads were were stuck on (oh yeah, we were stuck in an intersection, lol) wasn’t plowed, they were going to have to refuse service.

Fuck that.

Her suggestion was that we notify the authorities that we were stuck and have them help us. Or just wait for our roads to be plowed.

Uhhhhm, fuck that.

So I not-so-nicely thanked the lady on the phone and then started my trek home.

The good news was that we were weren’t all that far from home.

By the time I got back to the car (after longest walk of my life) with a shovel to dig the car out, Tam was already being helped by two men who had two large vehicles. Oh, the joys of having really nice neighbors!

The man with the giant SUV had pulled Mom out of the snow she was stuck in and the man in the giant truck was driving through the snow to make tracks for us so we wouldn’t get stuck again.

Finally, we got home and we both kicked off our boots (or, actually, tam wore Target-brand slipper/clog/fuzzy weird shoe things while I had worn boots). Then we stripped off our pants, tossed ‘em into the dryer and crawled into our respective beds to get warm again.

All in a day’s work.