Let There Be Snow

Finally I'm back on the blog. Sorry I've been away almost a week. Last Thursday we went to our Idaho home to check on it. A lot of snow had fallen in the area, more than northern Idaho has seen in years. The previous week we'd had to hire a Bobcat tractor to cut through all the snow on our driveway so we could get into the place. Our regular plowers had gotten stuck the last time they tried to plow due to another huge dump of snow. By the time the Bobcat cut a swath down our long driveway--and three workers shoveled snow off the roof around our deck and breezeway--we'd shelled out around $1200.

It's a real problem to plow that much snow from a driveway. Where in the heck do you put it all? The berms had to be cut way back so the regular plower could get in the next time it snowed. Otherwise the plow would have nowhere to push new snow.

You can see the before and after pictures. Before--the snow was halfway up our garage door. It took all day to do the work and was dark by the time they were done.

Anyway, once we got there this project was completed. Only on Saturday we managed to lose power because some snow plower out on the highway ran into a transformer. Once that came back on, we had Internet service for a few hours, then it left us and never did come back before we left. Now that we're back in California, a tech is finally at the Idaho house, trying to diagnose the Internet problem from the outside.

So there's my "the dog ate my homework" excuses as to why I haven't blogged.

In other news--I am about 2 1/2 weeks out from my next deadline on March 1. This is the second young adult suspense in the Rayne series. I've had a whopping six weeks to write it. (Now for all of you authors out there who spin out a full-length adult novel in that time while hopping on one foot--go stick your head in snow, I don't wanna hear about it.)

In yet other news (since I'm feeling oh-so-chatty today), last week my son and oldest child turned 25. I told him that's the cut-off age--he now has to start acting like a real adult. Except that as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I had to add that at 51 I'm still wondering when I'm going to feel like an adult. Shouldn't have spoken my thoughts aloud. Methinks I just gave my son a mighty big way out.

And in yet other news, getting back to that snow thing--four weeks from today on March 4th, it will be one year since my broken ankle saga began. I still don't--and never will again--relish the sight of a snowmobile.

And that's it on me. At least I ain't up and died. See ya back here tomorrow.