It's been a long, cold winter my friends.
Never quite recovered from Christmas. We went out to South Carolina and stayed with Paul's parents. While I was relieved that a KKK squadron did not meet us at the airport when our flight arrived, I was welcomed by worse when we finally made it to the house:
Zorro. The 100 lb. evil Ukrainian mop of a cat.
He fixed me with an amused look in his eyes the minute I stepped in the door.
I tried to look away but the power of his stare seemed to burn my throat. My eyes. My everything. Soon I learned the the heat was allergies...the worse I'd ever experienced. No longer will I roll my eyes when people whine about debilatating allergies. Now I know. Drugs were powerless to the strength of Zorro.
It didn't help that Zorro was out to get me. Once, I found him all cozied up inside my purse. He reacted to my screams with the same cool amused look in his eyes as the first time we met. He wouldn't budge and someone had to pick him up and out.
I was sequestered the majority of the time in the little room upstairs, with an air purifier on one side, a fan on the other. Every once in a while I peeked down to see what everyone was up to. As soon as I saw the furball, I'd slip back into my room, itchy tail between my legs.
When we finally got home (two days early), we had to take a shuttle home when our ride never materialized and the airport closed.
"See! I told you no one would pick us up!" Eli said. Over and over. and over.
I'll stop here because the mere memory is making my neck break out.
In all fairness, the kids had a blast hanging out with their many cousins. Savvy cried when she had to finally disengage from hug after hug after hug. And yeah, I felt like an ass. An itchy, miserable, drippy ass.
Savvy's 5th bday party kicked off Spring. Finally. Spring.
It was a Barbie themed party, and I got all creative and bought gold and silver beaded necklaces, and feather boas in varying shades of pink and purple to use instead of streamers. I think the result looked more like burlesque, strip joint (Oops...I-just-stripped-and-my-boa-landed-over-there-big-boy sort of thing) than Barbie. Nobody seemed to notice any of it any way.
...and so a toast! To Spring and the shedding of jackets and rainboots and nightmares of Zorro's eyes.