Oh. My. God. I’m freezing to death. How utterly ridiculous that on Friday we made the announcement that spring had sprung. We honestly didn’t think we were going to have yet ANOTHER cold snap. Two of the girls from our office were trapped in Albuquerque when they shut the airport due to weather. That is absurd. The rest of the country is enjoying spring and we’re freezing down here. What the hell is that all about?

My friend Kurt told me I could shut up about being cold and could complain about my snow flurries and icy rain when we got close to the 130 inches of snow they’ve gotten this year. I felt awful – 130 inches! That can’t be legal, I thought. The Anchorage-ites should file a formal complaint. No one should be expected to live that way. I mentioned this to my mother, expressing my sentiments of how awful I felt for Kurt and his family. I mostly felt awful because I hate nothing more than being cold. Kurt would also mention that I hate being hot, wet or wind-blown as well, but we don’t listen to Kurt when he starts name calling like that.

ANYWAY, I mentioned it to my mom. She made scoffing noise and announced that the year we moved to Flagstaff (1973) there was 200 inches. I rolled my eyes. How, I ask you, how could Flagstaff, ARIZONA get more snow than Anchorage, ALASKA? Clearly age was catching up with my mother and her memory was failing.

Here’s the thing though. She was totally right. Don’t you know I went home an Googled it. Flagstaff it turns out is one of the US Snowiest Cities according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The annual snowfall averages 100.0 inches. What the hell is that? I can’t believe my parents made me live there. Granted we moved back to the desert when I was six, but I still had to walk to the bus stop in the snow for two years. Two years!

Those crazy Flagstaff-ites and loony Alaskans can feel free to live with that white version of hell. I’ll happily stay down here in the desert and complain about the heat, thank you very much.

I found some pictures today that explain how the process went when I was trying to write tonight’s blog post.

It was a weird weekend. The weather took a horrible turn. We went from 85 on Saturday to freezing cold rain today. They’re even talking snow in lower elevations tonight.

We went to a bookstore this weekend. When I woke up at least one of the new books had been destroyed by a cup of milk that no one had bothered to clean up.

I had to get the Idiot Dog off the kitchen table three times and his girlfriend Winnie out from under our bed twice.

There was a knock down, drag out fight to get the kids in the shower tonight. The dirty laundry is threatening to take over the world and there are dishes in the sink.

BUT the scabs on my nose are finally gone. I finished a synopsis for the 2nd book as requested by two reading editors. I started chapter 10 of book three. I’m reading a bunch of research for another idea. Because I have that same demented view as so many fans of a sports team, I experienced the high and low of my hockey team both winning and losing this weekend.

I finally got to watch the final Harry Potter movie. Of course, I read the books so I already knew what was gonna happen. I was there at the bookstore at midnight to get my copies and then would lock myself in the bathroom so I could read it uninterrupted. Really, if you need to lock yourself away, the bathroom is the place to do it. You have both the water and the potty. But for what ever reason, despite all my good intentions – read small children, 40 hour week job, blog and other writer commitments – I never got to the theater to see it. 

I watched it alone. I cried alone. I’ve always been a fan of Snape – and yes, I trusted him all along. You do have to wonder if Lilly was worth it, though.